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ANNOUNCEMENT. 


'T^HIS  book  is  wholly  devoted  to  a  description  of  Western 
scenes. 

It  is  a  trustworthy  descriptive  book  of  travel,  unencumbered 
with  statistics  or  itineraries.  It  is  hoped,  however,  that  a  perusal  of 
its  pages  will  create  a  desire  to  visit  the  scenes  described.  The 
reader  who  wishes  to  know  something  specifically  about  the  cost 
and  other  details  of  such  a  journey  is  respectfully  requested  to  con- 
sult a  representative  of  the  Santa  Fe  Lines.  A  list  of  agents 
is  given  on  reverse  side. 

Excursion  tickets  for  the  round  trip  to  California  over  the  Santa 
Fe  are  on  sale  at  all  times  of  the  year  in  principal  offices  through- 
out the  country.  The  fares  are  low,  and  liberal  provisions  are 
made  for  stop-overs  and  final-return  limit,  allowing  ample  time  for 
a  prolonged  stay  at  the  many  points  of  interest  en  route. 

The  trains  of  the  Santa  Fe  are  confidently  recommended  to  a 
discriminating  traveling  public  as  unsurpassed  in  the  important 
items  of  speed,  safety,  and  luxurious  equipment.  The  dining-car 
and  dining-room  service  is  unrivaled.  The  employes  are  uni- 
formly courteous. 

W.  J.  BLACK, 

Passeiijjer  Traffic  Manager, 
The  Atchison,  Tcpeka  &  Sanla  Ke  Railway  System. 

<  iiirAGO,  .TiintiMry,  li)14. 


SANTA  FE  TICKET  OFFICES. 

ATCHISON,  Kan.,  210  Simpson  Bldg F.  W.  MYERS,  Generul  Agent. 

ATIM^NTA.  aa-.HN.  Pryor  St JNO.  D.  OAKTEK,  Southern  Passenger  Agent. 

PAUL  E.  UOOEHS,  Traveling  Passenger  Age: 

R.  M.   PIERPONT.XravelingpHssenKerAgon 
BEAUMONT,  Tex.,  New  Crosby  Hotel. ...T.  M.  GAUNTT,  City  Passenger  Agent. 
BOSTON,  Mass.,  336  Washington  St S.  W.  MANNING,  General  New  England  Agen 

H.  M.  ELKTCHER,  Passenger  Agent. 

M.  H.  GAGE,  Traveling  Agent. 

F.  G.  RANNEy,  Traveling  Agent. 
BUFFALO,  N.V.,2ai  Ellicott  Sq.  Bldg. ..PETER  PALM ATEER,  Passenger  Agent. 
OHIOAGO.  lll.,M  Weet  Adams  St Gf:0.  T.  GUNNLP,  General  Agt.  Passenger  De 

F.  R.  CONNELL,  Mgr.  Cal.  Tourist  Service. 
THUS.W.  CONWAY.  Traveling  Passenger  Age 
L.  N.  NELSON,  City  Passenger  Agent. 

Dearborn  Station .J.  Q.  ADAMS,  Dopot  Passenger  Agent. 

1119 Railway  Exchange C.  L.  SE.-VGRAVES,  General  Colonization  Ag 

OINOTNNATI,  Ohio,  209  Traction  Bldg...F.  G.  BURNEi'T,  General  Agent  Passenger  D< 

CLYDE  HILL,  Traveling  Passenger  Agent. 

OLEBUBNE,  Texas ...EARL  KIRKPATRIOK,  City  Passenger  Agen' 

CLEVELAND,  O.,  28  Taylor  Arcade A.J.KENNEDY,  Passenger  Agent. 

COLO.  SP'GS.  U8  E.  Pike's  Peak  Ave C.  C.  HOYT,  City  Passenger  Agent. 

DALLlAS,  Tex.,  1205  Mnin  St OHAS.  L.  HOLLAND,  City  Passenger  Agent. 

J.  P.  WRIGHT,  Traveling  Passenger  Agent. 

DENVER,  Oolo..  601  nth  St J.  P.HALL,  General  Agent  Passenger  Dept. 

A.  A.  OTT,  City  Passenger  Agent. 

N.  F.  JOHNSON,  Traveling  Pa.ssenger  Agent. 

W.  S.  BURDIOK,  Traveling  Passenger  Agent. 

DES  MOINES,  Iowa,  315  7th  St SAMUEL  LARIMER,  Gen'l  Agent  Pass'rDep 

C.  A.  MOORE,  Traveling  Passenger  Agent. 
_  J.  0.  BATHAM,  Traveling  Passenger  Agent. 

DETROIT,  Mich.,  151  Gnswold  St F.  T.  HENDRY,  General  Agent  Pusseuger  Dei 

T,^  ^.„^  ™,        „.„    T,..       ,,.„         .     G.  Q.  ROBERTSON,  Passenger  Agent. 
EL  PASO,  Tex.,  Mills  Bldg.,  Mills  and 

Oregon  Sts W.R.BROWN,  Division  Passenger  Agent. 

J.  8.  MORRISSON,  City  Ticket  Agent. 

G.  H.  DONART.  Traveling  Passenger  Agent. 
W.  A.  CAMERON,  Traveling  PaRsenger  Agent, 

FT.  WORTH,  Tex.,  702  Houston  St T.  P.  FENELON.  City  Passenger  Agent. 

FRESNO,  Gal,  2040  Tulare  Street H.  B.  GREGORY,  General  Agent. 

GALVESTON,  Tex..  224TremontSt MAX  NAUMANN,  Gen'l  Agent  Passenger  Det 

HONG  KONG,  CHINA,  King's  Bldg....  GEO.  H.  CORSE,  Jr..  Gen.  Pass'r  Agt..  San  Fl 

Cisco  Overland  Route. 

HONOLULU.  T.  H THEO.  H.  DAVIES  &  CO.,  Ltd. 

HOUSTON,  Tex.,  9W  Texas  Ave J.  R.  GREENHILL.  City  Passenger  Agent. 

KANSAS  OITY^,  Mo.,  'J05  Main  St GEO.  W.  HAGSINBITCH,  Gen'l  Agent  Pass'r  De 

T.  A.  WOL(!OTr.  Traveling  Passenger  Agent 

G.  B.  NEWMAN,  City  Passenger  Agent. 
Room?,  Union  Depot... L.  B.SMITH,  Traveling  Passenger  Agent. 
Room  7,  Union  Depot...  E.  O.  OTT,  Depot  Passenger  Agent. 
LE.A.VENWORTH,  Kan.,  406  Delaware  St.N.  E.  MANN,  General  Agent. 

LONDON,  Eng.,  6U  Hayraarket HENRY  V.  ELKINS,  General  European  Ageni 

LONG  HE.iCH,  Cal.,  4  Pine  Ave E.  W.McGEE,  Gen'l  Agent,  Passenger  Dept. 

LOS  ANGELES,  Cal.,S!«So.  Spring  St... E.  W.  McGEE,  General  Agent  Passenger  Dept. 

E.  R.  GREGORY,  Traveling  Passenger  Agent. 
MEXICO  CITY.  Max.,  Avenida  del  Cinco  e     ^     n. 

deMavoS W.  8.  FABN8W0RTH,  General  Agent. 

MINNEAPOLIS  Minn.,  503  Metropolitan 

Life  Bldg 0.  0.  C.ARPENTER.Gen'l  Agt.,  Pass'r  Dept. 

MONTEaEY,  N.  L.  Mex„  Apartado  321  ..HARRY  C.  ARCHER,  Trav.  Passenger  Agent. 
MONTREAL,  Quebec,  83  St.  James  St. ..  .D.  W.  HATOil.  Traveling  Agent. 
NEW  ORLEANS,  La.,  223 St.  Charles  St...W.  L.  McWHIRTER,  General  Agent. 
NEWYORK  CITY,  377  and  12»t Broadway. GEO.  0.  DiLLARD,  General  Eastern  Pass'r  A| 

W.  F.  MILLER,  City  Passenger  Agent. 

CLARENCE  E.  EA'fON,  Traveling  Pass'r  Agen 

OAKLAND,  Cal..  1218  Broadway J.  J.  WARNER,  General  Agent. 

OKLAHOMA  err Y,Okla.,S.F.  Depot.... THOS.  BOYLAN,  Passenger  Agent. 

PEiJHlA.  111.,  J25  Main  St O.  H.  THOMAS,  Passenger  Agent. 

PHILADELPHIA,  Pa.,  711  Chestnut  St..  .S.  B.  ST.  JOHN,  GeneralAgent. 

R.  B.VANDKGRIFT,  Traveling  Passenger  Age 

PHOENIX,  Ariz W.  S.  GOLDSW  ORTHY'  G.  A.,S.  F.  P.&  P.  Line 

PITTSBURGH,  Pa.,  405  Park  Building. ..F.  E.  SHELLABERGER,  General  Agent. 

CARLTON  H.  BEACH,  Passenger  Agent. 

PORTLAND,  Ore.,  122 Third  St H.  E.  VERNON,  General  Agent. 

„„„„^  „  „  A.  R.  ANDFJRSON,  Traveling  Passenger  Agent 

PUEBLO,  Colo.,  225  North  Union  Ave C.  G.  NIKIRK,  City  Ticket  Agent. 

RIVEKSIDE,  Cal.,  Mission  Inn J.  H.  BAUMAN,  Agent. 

ROCK  ]Sr,.VND,  111.,  210  18th  St H.  D.  MACK,   GeneralAgent. 

SACRAMENTO,  Cal.    1024  8th  St T.  H.  WARRINGTON,  General  Agent. 

tT.JOSEPH,  Mo.,  114  South  Fifth  St  ....GEO.  BUTTERLY,  City  Passenger  Agent. 
T.  LOUIS,  Mo.,  209  N.  7th  St GEO.  C.  CHAMBKRS,  Gen'l  Agent  Pass.  Dept 

GEO.  R.  BATNTER,  City  Passenger  Agent. 
„    ,„  ,        „  F.K.  SMITH,  Traveling  Passenger  Agent. 

SALT  LAKE  CITY,  Utah,  Room  233     >  E.  R.  LEIS,  General  Agent. 

Ju.lgo  Bldg J.J.  .T.  DEVEREUX,  Traveling  Agent. 

SAN  ANTONIO,  Tex., 101  W.  Commerce  St.EVERETT  H.  DALLAS,  District  Pass'r  Agent. 
SAN  BERNARDINO,  Cal.,  3d  and  F  St8..W.  R.  DOWLER,  General  Agent. 

SAN  DIEGO,  Cal.,  Grant  Hotel  Bldg S.  C.  PAYSON,  GeneralAgent. 

SAN  FRANCISCO,  Cat, 673 Market  St. ...J.  B.  I>UEFY,  General  Agent  Passenger  Dept. 

LOUIS  R.  EVERETT.  City  Passenger  Agent. 
„.„,„„^„,    _  JAS.  F.  MOSES,  City  Ticket  Agent. 

8AN.JOSE,  Cal.,  28  E.Santa  Clara  St H.  R.  STKRNE,  General  Agent. 

SANTA  BARB.AR.\,Oal.,  812  State  St W.  B.  FRI.SBII"?,  GeneralAgent. 

STOCKTON. Cal H.  E.  SHRYOCK,  Agent. 

SYDNEY,  Australia,  44  Pitt  St V.A.  SPROUL,  Aust.  Mgr.,  Oceanic  S.  8.  Oe. 

TEMPLE.  Tex H.  Y.  WILf  JAMS,  Traveling  Passenger  Agent 

rOPEKA,  Kan.,  A.  T.  &  S.  F.  General  {W.J.  CURTIS,  District  Passenger  Agent. 

.„,„  Office  Building J  GLENN  EDDIE.  Passen(?er  Agent. 

WICHITA.  Kan.,  Santa  Fe  Depot E.  0.  MORI  ARTY,  City  Passenger  Agent. 

YOKOHAMA,  Japan,  4  Water  St GEO.  H.  CORSE.  Jr.,  G.  P.  A.,  San  Francisco 

Overland  Route. 


TO  CALIFORNIA 

Over  the  Santa  Fe  Trail 


TO  CALIFORNIA 

Over  the  Santa  Fe  Trail 
by  C.  A.  Higgins 


Illustrations  by 

J.  T.  McCutcheon,  Carl  N.  Werntz,  John  W. 
Norton  and  James  Allen  McCracken 


Passenger  Department,  Santa  Fe 
Chicago,  1914 


Copyright,  1907, 
By  W.  J.  Black, 

Three  Hundred  and  Seventy-fourth  Thousand, 
Revised  Edition. 


^^yfUf^'    ■'■••<, 


Ad.  796.     1-10-14.     lOM. 


CONTENTS. 

I.    East  of  the  Rockiks 7 

II.    New  Mexico 23 

RATON    TO    LAS    VEGAS 3 1 

LAS    VEGAS    TO    ALBUQUERQUE 34 

SANTA  FE 38 

PUEBLOS 44 

III.  Arizona 53 

ALBUQUERQUE  TO   NEEDLES         57 

PETRIFIED  FORESTS 6 1 

HOPIS 65 

CANYON  DIABLO           70 

FLAGSTAFF 7 1 

SAN  FRANCISCO  PEAKS 73 

GRAND  CANYON  OF  ARIZONA 77 

CLIFF  AND  CAVE  DWELLINGS 87 

CENTRAL  AND  SOUTHERN  ARIZONA 89 

IV.  Southern  California 96 

THE  world's  treasure  VAULT 98 

SOUTH  of  CAJON  PASS ICO 

of  CLIMATE 103 

SAN  DIEGO  AND  VICINITY 112 

PANAMA-CALIFORNIA   EXPOSITION 122 

CAPISTRANO 125 

STORY  OF  THE  MISSIONS 127 

LOS  ANGELES 135 

PASADENA          148 

MOUNT  LOWE I51 

THE    KITE-SHAPED    TRACK 152 

SEASIDE    RESORTS 161 

SANTA  CATALINA  ISLAND 1 65 

SANTA  BARBARA           169 

OSTRICH  FARMING I72 

WINTER  SPORTS 173 

A    LAND   OF   FLOWERS 1 77 

V.    Central  California iSo 

SAN  FRANCISCO 184 

PANAMA-PACIFIC   INTERNATIONAL  EXPOSITION           .  I93 

OAKLAND 197 

SUBURBAN  SAN  FRANCISCO 20I 

A   PACIFIC   TOUR 203 

COAST   LINE 206 

YOSEMITE   VALLEY 211 

KINGS    RIVER    CANYON 2 17 

GOOD  ROADS  IN  CALIFORNIA 221 

THE  RETURN  VIA  OGDF.N 221 

SPANISH  NAMES  (MEANING  AND  pronunciation)       .  227 

MAP  SANTA  FE  SYSTEM       ...".....  2'?2 


353911) 


THE  OLD  SANTA  FE  TRAIL. 

It  wound  through  strange  scarred  hills,  down  canyons  lone 

Where  wild  things  screamed,  with  winds  for  company  ; 

Its  milestones  were  the  bones  of  pioneers. 

Bronzed,  haggard  men,  often  with  thirst  a-moan, 

Lashed  on  their  beasts  of  burden  toward  the  sea  : 

An  epic  quest  it  was  of  elder  years, 

For  fabled  gardens  or  for  good,  red  gold, 

The  trail  men  strove  in  iron  days  of  old. 

To-day  the  steam  god  thunders  through  the  vast. 
While  dominant  Saxons  from  the  hurtling  trains 
Smile  at  the  aliens,  Mexic,  Indian, 
Who  offer  wares,  keen-colored,  like  their  past : 
Dread  dramas  of  immitigable  plains 
Rebuke  the  softness  of  the  modern  man  ; 
No  menace,  now,  the  desert's  mood  of  sand  ; 
Still  westward  lies  a  green  and  golden  land. 

For,  at  the  magic  touch  of  water,  blooms 
The  wilderness,  and  where  of  yore  the  yoke 
Tortured  the  toilers  into  dateless  tombs, 
Lo!  brightsome  fruits  to  feed  a  mighty  folk. 

—  Richard  Burton  in  The  Century 


I. 


EAST   OF   THE   ROCKIES. 

THE  California  trains  of  the  Santa  Fe  (except 
the  CaHfornia  Fast  Mail)  leave  Chicago 
either  in  early  evening,  or  at  a  later  hour,  when 
most  travelers  are  ready  to  retire  to  the  seclusion 
of  their  berths.  In  either  event  the  earliest  stages 
of  the  journey  ofifer  little  of  interest  to  the  tourist 
aside  from  the  drainage  canal,  whose  white  rock- 
debris  closely  parallels  the  way  for  thirty  miles. 

The  same  natural  conditions  which  made  the 
Chicago  River  a  favored  route  for  the  early  explorers 
made  possible  the  creation  of  this  most  remarkable 
of  civic  sanitary  undertakings.  The  low  water- 
shed over  which  Marquette,  Joliet,  La  Salle  and 
their  fellows  dragged  light  canoes,  from  the  head 
waters  of  the  Chicago  River  to  those  flowing  south- 
westward  to  the  Mississippi,  has  been  penetrated 
by  the  great  canal.  It  is  literally  true,  therefore, 
that  the  current  of  the  Chicago  River  has  been 
diverted  from  its  natural  direction  into  Lake  Michi- 
gan, and  now  flows  by  way  of  its  source,  "  uphill." 
The  primary  incentive  for  this  stupendous  under- 
7 


taking  was  the  desire  to  divert  the  drainage  of  the 
city  from  its  outflow  into  Lake  Michigan,  where 
it  contaminated  that  noble  water  supply.  Inciden- 
tally, however,  as  a  result  of  the  work,  a  capacious 
ship  channel  has  been  formed,  connecting  the  basin 
of  the  Great  Lakes  with  the  Mississippi  River. 

While  no  commercial  advantage  has  been  taken 
of  this  new  trade  route  as  yet,  river  improvements 
now  under  way  will  remove  the  final  obstacle 
to  direct  navigation  between  the  lakes  and  the 
great  river.  This  drainage  canal  is  one  of  those 
rare  achievements  in  which  figures  tell  a  dramatic 
story.  The  total  cost  of  the  enterprise  from  the 
beginning  to  the  end  approximates  $40,000,000. 
The  canal  was  begun  September  3,  1892,  and  in 
January  of  1900  the  water  of  Lake  Michigan  was 
turned  into  it  to  find  a  new  way  to  the  ocean. 
The  length  of  the  main  channel  is  28.5  miles,  the 
depth  of  water  22  feet,  the  width  from  162  feet  to 
290  feet,  and  the  total  amount  of  excavation 
42,397,904  cubic  yards.  The  present  capacity  is 
300,000  cubic  feet  per  minute,  and  this  flow  will 
be  materially  increased  by  the  river  improvements. 

By  day  the  adjacent  country  appears  a  level  or 
mildly  undulating  region,  rich  in  agricultural  prod- 
ucts, and  relieved  by  bits  of  stream  and  woodland 
and  by  small  villages,  with  here  and  there  a  con- 
siderable city,  such  as  Joliet,  and  Streator  and 
Galesburg,  and  important  rivers,  such  as  the  Illinois, 
which  is  crossed  near  Chillicothe.  It  is  greater 
than  the  whole  of  England  and  Wales,  this  State 


^qacur. 


of  Illinois,  but  a  very  few  hours'  ride  is  sufficient 
to  bring  one  to  its  western  boundary,  the  Missis- 
sippi River.  This  is  crossed  at  Fort  Madison  on  an 
eight-span  drawbridge  1,925  feet  long.  The  back- 
water from  the  great  electric  power  dam  at  Keokuk 
is  here  plainly  evident.  The  way  continues  across 
the  narrow  southeastern  corner  of  Iowa  into  Mis- 
souri. While  gliding  through  Missouri  the  traveler 
awakes  to  the  sight  of  a  rolling  country  of  distant 
horizons,  swelling  here  and  there  to  considerable 
hills,  checkered  with  tilled  fields  and  frequent  farm- 
houses, divided  by  numerous  water-courses  and 
dense  groves  of  deciduous  trees.  Not  one  whose 
scenic  features  you  would  travel  far  to  see,  but 
gratifying   to  the  eye. 

La  Plata  is  the  highest  point  between  Chicago 
and  Kansas  City.  Just  east  of  CarroUton  the  w^ide 
valley  of  the  tawny  Missouri  is  entered,  which 
river  the  Santa  Fe  follows  to  Kansas  City.  At  the 
new  double-track  Sibley  bridge  (two-fifths  of  a  mile 
long  and  135  feet  high)  across  the  Missouri  River  the 
swift  sand-laden  volume  of  this  famed  stream  flows 
far  below  the  level  of  the  eye,  and  there  is  wide 
outlook  upon  either  hand.  On  the  farther  side 
the  way  skirts  bold  bluffs  for  a  considerable  dis- 
tance by  the  side  of  the  picturesque  river  that 
is  reminiscent  of  the  days  of  steamboat  commerce. 
Then  comes  Kansas  City. 

From  Chicago  to  Kansas  City  and  beyond,  to 
Newton,  Kan.,  the  line  of  the  Santa  Fe  is  double- 
tracked   all  the  way — a  fact  which  makes  for  safe 


and  speedy  travel.  The  Belen  cut-off,  from  Newton 
to  Albuquerque,  practically  makes  a  two-track 
railroad  for  that  section  ;  extra  trackage  is  being 
laid  west  of  Albuquerque.  Eventually  the  Santa 
Fe's  main  line  through  to  California  will  thus  be 
duplicated,  greatly  increasing  efficiency  of  service. 

There  was  a  time  when  Kansas  City  was  famed 
almost  entirely  for  its  live  stock  industry,  its  great 
packing  houses,  and  its  grain  market.  These  en- 
terprises have  been  growing  year  by  year,  but  they 
no  longer  dominate  the  commercial  life  of  this 
metropolis  of  the  Missouri  Valley.  A  great  rail- 
way, manufacturing  and  distributing  center,  Kansas 
City  holds  an  important  place  in  the  business  activ- 
ities of  the  whole  Southwest.  Its  rapid  growth  is 
uninterrupted,  the  present  population,  counting  that 
portion  over  in  Kansas,  being  upwards  of  400,000. 
Its  people  are  energetic  and  practical  in  their  civic 
loyalty.  The  Kansas  border  lies  just  beyond,  the 
entrance  to  that  State  leading  by  the  serpentine 
course  of  the  river  of  the  same  name  through  a 
wooded  landscape  to  the  open  prairie. 

Kansas  City  is  not  the  only  gateway  by  which 
the  Santa  Fe  enters  Kansas,  although  it  is  by  this 
route  that  the  transcontinental  trains  travel.  St. 
Joseph,  in  Missouri,  and  Atchison  and  Leavenworth, 
in  Kansas,  are  Missouri  River  cities,  all  reached  by 
connecting  lines  of  the  same  system,  and  all  famous 
in  the  early  history  of  the  region.  St.  Joseph  was 
an  important  point  of  exchange  between  the  river 
traffic  and  that  of  the  overland  route  to   Denver 


and  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Atchison  was  the 
initial  point  of  the  Santa  Fe  Railway  system  itself, 
as  originally  planned,  and  gave  its  name  to  the 
great  railway.  Leavenworth  was  one  of  the  early 
military  posts  of  the  great  West,  and  is  still  known 
as  the  seat  of  Fort  Leavenworth.  All  cf  these  are 
flourishing  cities,  with  important  local  industries. 

The  eastern  boundary  of  the  billowy  surface  of 
Kansas  was  along  the  shore  of  the  most  stubborn 
wilderness  of  our  possession.  The  French  fur- 
traders  were  the  first  to  establish  footing  of  civiliza- 
tion in  this  State,  the  greater  portion  of  which 
came  to  us  as  part  of  the  Louisiana  purchase. 

More  than  seventy  years  ago  Fort  Leavenworth 
was  created  to  give  military  protection  to  the  haz- 
ardous trade  with  Santa  Fe,  and  the  great  overland 
exodus  of  Argonauts  to  California  at  the  time  of 
the  gold  discovery  was  by  way  of  that  border  sta- 
tion. The  first  general  settlement  of  its  eastern 
part  was  in  the  heat  of  the  factional  excitement 
that  led  to  the  Civil  War.  It  was  the  scene  of 
bloody  encounters  between  free-soil  and  pro-slavery 
colonists,  and  of  historic  exploits  by  John  Brown 
and  the  guerrilla  Quantrell.     In  the  space  of  one 


A  Santa  Fe  Dining  Room      ^ 


University  of  Kansas 


generation  it  has  been  transformed  as  by  a  miracle. 
The  very  Lawrence,  whose  name  for  years  called 
to  mind  the  horrors  of  the  Quantrell  raid  and  the 
massacre  of  its  defenseless  citizens,  is  now  the  most 
flourishing  of  peaceful  towns,  the  seat  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Kansas  and  of  the  famous  Haskell  Insti- 
tute, a  noteworthily  successful  school  for  Indians. 
The  vast  plains  whereon  the  Indian,  antelope 
and  buffalo  roamed  supreme  are  now  counted  as 
the  second  most  important  agricultural  area  of  the 
Union,  and  its  uncultivated  tracts  sustain  millions 
of  cattle,  mules  and  horses.  Vigorous  young  cities 
are  seen  at  frequent  intervals.  Topeka,  with  its 
broad  avenues  and  innumerable  shade  trees,  is  one 
of  the  prettiest  capitals  of  the  West ;  here  are  the 
general  offices  and  principal  shops  of  the  Santa  Fe, 
and  several  imposing  State  edifices.  Between  Law- 
rence and  Topeka  the  train  passes  historic  Lecomp- 
ton,  the  early  territorial  capital  of  Kansas  —  once 
a  strenuous  pro-slavery  stronghold,  to-day  a  quiet 
country  village.  The  neighborhood  of  Newton 
and  Burrton  is  the  home  of  Mennonites,  a  Russian 
sect  that  fled  to  America  from  the  domain  of  the 
Czar  to  find  relief  from  oppression.  Newton  was 
in  pioneer  days  a  big  shipping  point  on  the  cattle 
drive  from  Texas. 


The  Capitol,  Topeka 


{^1I'<^/N-^ 


University  of  Kansas. 


At  Hutchinson  (noted  for  its  salt  industry  and 
for  its  Tudoresque  station  hotel,  The  Bisonte)  one 
enters  western  Kansas,  and  from  this  point  for  a 
long  distance  the  road  follows  the  windings  of  the 
Arkansas  River,  with  only  occasional  digressions. 
Dodge  City,  of  cowboy  fame,  and  Garden  City, 
the  scene  of  Government  experiments  in  agricul- 
ture, are  the  chief  centers  of  this  district.  East  of 
Great  Bend  are  the  ruins  of  old  Fort  Zarah.  Paw- 
nee Rock,  further  west,  derives  its  name  from  a 
high  rock  north  of  the  little  station,  where  many 
fierce  Indian  battles  were  fought,  and  where  Gen. 
Hancock,  Gen.  Robert  E.  Lee  and  Kit  Carson 
made  noteworthy  visits. 

Opposite  Larned,  on  an  island  in  the  river,  a 
fierce  battle  occurred  in  1870  between  hostile 
Cheyennes  and  Arapahoes. 

The  Santa  Fe  Trail,  mentioned  in  New  Mexico 
chapter,  began  at  Westport  (now  Kansas  City), 
following  the  Kaw  River  to  Lawrence,  thence 
over  the  hills  to  Burlingame  and  Council  Grove — 
the  Arkansas  Valley  being  reached  at  Fort  Zarah 
(now  Great  Bend).  The  trail  crept  up  this  valley 
to  Bent's  Fort  (now  Las  Animas),  and  climbed 
the  mountains  through  Raton  Pass.  There  was  a 
short  cut  from  Fort  Dodge  to  Las  Vegas,  along 
the  Cimarron  River;  its  Kansas  section  now  is 
closely  followed  by  a  new  extension  of  Santa  Fe 
13 


rails.  It  is  not  so  long  ago  since  Comanches  and 
Pawnees  made  almost  every  toilsome  mile  of  the 
slow  passage  through  Kansas  dangerous  for  the 
wagon  trains  that  wound  slowly  across  the  plains, 
laden  with  the  traffic  for  the  southwest.  Except 
the  trains  were  heavily  guarded  by  military  escorts, 
they  were  subject  to  frequent  attacks  by  day  and 
night.  The  stories  of  those  days  make  picturesque 
reading  now. 

Colorado  first  presents  itself  as  a  plateau,  ele- 
vated 4,000  feet  above  the  sea,  railway  and  river 
continuing  as  close  neighbors  through  the  gently 
ascending  plains. 

The  Arkansas  Valley,  all  the  way  from  east  of 
Garden  City  to  La  Junta  and  beyond,  is  in  sum- 
mer comparable  to  a  two-hundred-mile-long  green 
ribbon  stretched  loosely  across  the  wide  gray  prai- 
rie. Its  alfalfa  fields,  melon  patches,  beet  sugar 
acres  and  thrifty  towns  are  proof  that  irrigation 
pays,  there  being  a  never-failing  supply  of  water 
for  these  fertile  lands.  Garden  City,  Holly,  Lamar, 
Las  Animas,  La  Junta  and  Rocky  Ford  are  the 
centers  of  this  irrigated  district,  a  bit  of  pastoral 
prosperity  in  pleasing  contrast  with  the  grim  and 
forbidding  mountains  soon  to  be  ventured. 

Six  factories  have  been  built  for  the  production 
of  sugar  from  beets — one  each  at  Rocky  Ford, 
Lamar,  Holly,  Swink,  Garden  City  and  Sugar  City. 
They  were  erected  at  a  cost  of  several  million  dol- 
lars and  their  daily  capacity  is  about  5,000  tons  of 


beets.  This  convenient  market  is  stimulating  the 
raising  of  sugar  beets  throughout  the  whole  valley, 
so  that  the  cultivation  of  the  succulent  vegetable 
has  become  one  of  the  most  important  of  local 
industries. 

Four  miles  west  of  Holly,  and  consequently  just 
over  the  Colorado  line,  is  the  little  colony  estab- 
lished by  the  Salvation  Army  in  1898,  under  the 
name  of  Fort  Amity.  As  a  measure  of  practical 
benefit  to  certain  elements  in  the  crowded  quar- 
ters of  the  great  cities,  the  Salvation  Army 
obtained  1,800  acres  of  land  here  and  settled  upon 
it  250  colonists. 

Passing  Las  Animas  the  tourist  is  again  reminded 
of  the  good  old  days  when  Kit  Carson  made 
Bent's  his  headquarters,  when  the  Arapahoes,  Kio- 
was  and  Cheyennes  wintered  at  Big  Timbers,  and 
when  Fort  William  (later  known  as  Fort  Lyon) 
afforded  security  for  the  frontiersmen  in  times  of 
unusual  danger. 

Every  mile  of  progress  westward  carries  the 
traveler  into  a  higher  altitude  as  he  approaches  the 
junction  of  the  great  plains  and  the  foothills  of  the 
Rockies.  Soon  the  landscape  begins  to  give  hint 
of  the  heroic.  Pike's  Peak  is  clearly  distinguish- 
able though  a  hundred  miles  distant,  and  the  two 
beautiful  Spanish  Peaks  hover  upon  the  horizon 
and  reappear  long  after  the  first-named  has  faded 
from  view.  Slowly  the  Raton  Range  gathers  sig- 
nificance directly  ahead,  until  it  becomes  a  tower- 
ing wall,  at  whose  foot  lies   the   city  of  Trinidad. 

15 


Trinidad  (population  10,204)  is  the  center  of 
large  coal,  coke,  iron  and  wool  industries.  Here, 
going  west,  is  the  first  appearance  of  adobe  archi- 
tecture. Here  also  begins  the  final  ascent  to  the 
first  of  many  lofty  mountain  gateways,  the  Raton 
Pass.     Fisher's  Peak  is  near  at  hand. 

Away  back  in  1540,  when  that  Spanish  soldier 
of  fortune,  Coronado,  traveled  through  the 
Southwest,  there  was  in  his  small  band  a  brave 
captain,  known  as  Cardenas.  The  Santa  Fe  rail- 
way hotel  at  Trinidad,  managed  by  Fred  Harvey, 
is  named  after  him. 

The  commodious  dining-room  of  the  Cardenas 
accommodates  nearly  a  hundred  guests,  and  there 
are  thirty-seven  sleeping  apartments.  The  edifice 
is  two  stories  high,  substantially  built  of  brick  and 
stone  in  the  impressive  old  Mission  style  of  archi- 
tecture, similar  to  the  Castaneda,  Alvarado  and 
Escalante  elsewhere  described.  The  hotel  is  beau- 
tifully furnished  throughout,  and  in  the  language 
of  the  advertisement  writer,  has  "all  the  modern 
conveniences." 

The  grade  up  Raton  Pass  is  remarkably  steep, 
and  two  powerful  mountain  engines  are  required 
to  haul  the  train  at  a  pace  hardly  faster  than  a 
walk.  The  vicissitudes  of  the  pass  are  such  that 
the  road  winds  tortuously  in  curves  so  sharp  the 


Hotel  Cardenas,  at   Irimdad 


wheels  shriek  at  the  strain.  From  the  rear  vesti- 
bule may  be  had  an  endlessly  varied  and  long 
continued  series  of  mountain  views,  for  the  ascent 
is  no  mere  matter  of  a  moment.  There  are  level 
side  canyons  prettily  shaded  with  aspen,  long 
straight  slopes  covered  with  pine,  tumbled  waves 
of  rock  overgrown  with  chaparral,  huge  bare  cliffs 
with  perpendicular  gray  or  brown  faces,  conical 
coke  ovens,  with  their  ghostly  smoke  wreaths, 
and  breaks  through  which  one  may  look  far  out 
across  the   lower  levels  to  other  ranges. 

A  short  distance  this  side  the  summit  stands 
what  is  left  of  the  old  toll-house,  an  abandoned 
and  dismantled  adobe  dwelling,  where  for  many 
years  the  veteran  Dick  Wooten  collected  toll  from 
those  who  used  the  wagon  road  through  the  pass. 
Both  ruin  and  trail  are  of  interest  as  belonging  to 
the  ante-railroad  period  of  thrilling  adventure,  for 
by  that  road  and  past  the  site  of  the  dilapidated 
dwelling  journeyed  every  overland  stage,  every 
caravan,  every  prairie  schooner,  every  emigrant, 
and  every  soldier  cavalcade  bound  to  the  south- 
western country  in  early  days. 

Beyond  this  is  a  wide-sweeping  curve  from 
whose  farther  side,  looking  backward  down  the 
pass,  an  inspiring  picture  is  unfolded  to  view  for  a 
passing  instant  —  a  farewell  glimpse  of  the  poetic 
Spanish  Peaks  at  the  end  of  a  long  vista  past  a 
ragged  foreground  of  gigantic  measure.  Then  the 
hills  crowd  and  shut  off   the  outside  world;  there 


is  a  deep  sandstone  cut,  its  faces  seamed  with  lay- 
ers of  coal,  a  boundary  post  marked  upon  one  side 
Colorado  and  upon  the  other  New  Mexico,  and 
instantly  following  that  a  plunge  into  a  half-mile 
tunnel  of  midnight  blackness,  at  an  elevation  of 
something  more  than  7,500  feet. 

A  second  tunnel  was  completed  in  April,  1908, 
thus  making  a  double-track  over  Raton  Pass  from 
Trinidad  to  Raton.  The  new  tunnel  is  a  little 
lower  than  the  old  one  (built  more  than  30  years 
ago);  it  is  2,678  feet  long,  26  feet  high  and  17  feet 
wide;  the  floor  is  7,548  feet  above  the  sea;  walls, 
roof  and  tw^o  air  shafts  are  lined  with  concrete.  In 
building  this  tunnel  $230,000  was  spent  for  labor 
alone,  and  9,020  different  laborers  were  employed 
during  the  thirteen  months  required  forconstruction, 
the  force  being  replaced  seven  times. 

At  such  a  Rubicon  the  preliminary  stages  may 
fairly  be  said  to  end. 

And  here,  too,  a  few  words  may  properly  be  said 
of  the  Maxwell  Land  Grant,  a  princely  domain 
once  owned  by  the  American  Fur  Company,  now 
belonging  to  a  foreign  syndicate.  The  Santa  Fe 
is  built  along  its  eastern  edge  for  sixty  miles  south 
of  Raton  Pass.  This  rich  empire  of  two  million  acres 
is  being  occupied  by  miners,  farmers  and  ranchers. 

A  scenic  highway,  used  by  autos  and  carriages, 
has  been  built  from  Trinidad  to  Raton,  up  and 
down  Raton  Pass,  along  the  old  trail.  It  forms 
part  of  the  projected  interstate  road  from 
Cheyenne  to  El  Paso. 
18 


Many  trans-continental  travelers,  by  way  of  New 
Mexico  and  Arizona,  break  their  journey  at  La 
Junta,  Colorado,  and  take  another  Santa  Fe  train 
to  Denver  and  back,  visiting  both  Pueblo  and  Colo- 
rado Springs.  The  distance  is  less  than  two  hun- 
dred miles,  or  about  a  six  hours'  run  when  made 
without  stop. 

The  way  between  La  Junta  and  Pueblo  is  up  the 
valley  of  the  Arkansas.  Rocky  Ford,  a  dozen  miles 
out,  is  noted  for  its  cantaloupes  and  watermelons. 
To  be  there  in  early  fall,  on  Watermelon  Day,  is  a 
feast  for  the  gods. 

Pueblo  is  a  manufacturing  city  and  the  metropolis 
of  southern  Colorado,  with  44,395  inhabitants.  It 
is  the  Pittsburgh  of  the  West,  for  here  are  iron  and 
steel  plants,  and  extensive  smelters.  A  railroad 
center,  too,  and  jobbing  point,  Pueblo's  parks, 
schools  and  churches  compare  favorably  with  those 
of  Eastern  cities  of  twice  its  population. 

Canon  City  is  a  little  ofif  the  beaten  path  of  travel 
to  Denver.  You  take  a  branch  train  from  Pueblo, 
forty  miles  west,  up  the  Arkansas  Valley.  The 
"  Skyline  "  drive,  starting  at  Canon  City,  is  several 
miles  in  length  and  runs  along  the  top  of  a  ridge 
hundreds  of  feet  up  in  the  sky.  A  fine  view  of  the 
Royal  Gorge  and  of  the  Sangre  de  Cristo  Range 
may  be  had  from  this  vantage  point. 

Turning  northward  there's  a  stiff  up-grade  along 
Fountain  Creek  to  Colorado  Springs  and  Palmer 
Lake,  a  summer  resort,  which. is  half  a  mile  nearer 
the  sky  than  is  the  city  of  smelters.     A  down-grade 


run  to  Denver,  and  you  are  still  a  mile  above  sea- 
level. 

Except  near  Palmer  Lake,  the  railroad  keeps 
several  miles  away  from  the  Rampart  range  of  the 
Rockies;  nevertheless,  the  western  horizon  is  almost 
shut  out  by  a  sheer  wall  of  red  rock,  green-gowned 
where  the  aspens  and  pines  grow,  and  white-capped 
in  the  upper  silences,  where  are  the  venturesome 
clouds  and  peaks.  Always  the  eye  is  challenged  by 
Pike's  Peak,  which,  just  back  of  Colorado  Springs, 
towers  to  a  height  of  14,108  feet.  In  early  days 
many  a  slow  prairie  schooner,  headed  for  that  mon- 
arch of  the  range,  bore  the  legend  "  Pike's  Peak  or 
bust."  Now,  in  summer,  the  tourist  may  ascend 
that  same  peak  on  a  cog-road  train  to  cloudland 
and  back  in  a  day,  and  not  be  "  busted,"  either. 

Colorado  Springs  is  much  more  than  a  place  for 
summer  visitors,  though  it  always  will  be  attractive 
to  that  large  class  of  travel,  because  of  altitude  and 
surroundings.  Closely  neighbored  by  the  Garden 
of  the  Gods,  Cheyenne  Canyons,  Manitou  and 
Pike's  Peak,  it  can  not  escape  the  pleasant  notoriety 
which  nearness  to  those  famed  spots  necessarily 
brings.  Frankly  thankful  for  the  flitting  stranger 
of  a  day  or  a  week,  this  city  of  30,000  and  more 
inhabitants  also  appeals  to  the  home  lover  and  busi- 
ness man.  Cripple  Creek,  just  over  the  range,  has 
left  here  much  of  its  gold  output.  Evidences  of 
wealth  are  on  every  hand,  in  fine  hotels,  luxurious 
residences  and  many-acred  parks. 

Denver  is  the  commercial  metropolis  of  the  Rocky 


Mountain  region  and  the  capital  of  Colorado.  The 
population  in  1910  was  213,381.  It  is  a  clean  city 
and  up-to-date.  Take  a  walk  through  the  business 
district  and  note  the  numerous  modern  blocks, 
some  of  them  skyscrapers.  The  hotels  are  better 
than  those  in  other  much  larger  cities,  and  so  are 
the  metropolitan  dailies.  A  New  Yorker  or  Bos- 
tonian  feels  at  home  in  them.  The  streets  are 
well  paved,  well  '  sidewalked  "  and  well  shaded. 
Imposing  residences  abound.  When  a  man  makes 
money  in  Colorado,  he  goes  to  Denver  to  invest 
and  spend  it;  result,  a  very  attractive  place  in  every 
way. 

The  one-day  trips  from  Denver  up  in  the  moun- 
tains are  many  and  of  varied  charm.  Whether  you 
go  up  South  Platte  Canyon,  or  to  Georgetown,  or 
ascend  the  Switzerland  Trail  of  America  —  always 
the  scenery  soon  exhausts  one's  stock  of  adjectives. 
Longer  journeys  may  be  made  to  Estes  Park,  and 
across  the  range  into  northwestern  Colorado. 


Park  Scene, 
Denuer. 


-^\^:-^ ,/ 


j,  •'W',; 


^^■^^^ 


fti^'F' ;f  |,H*'^*i;^ 


Spanish  Peaks 


II. 


NEW  MEXICO. 

ALTHOUGH  your  introduction  is  by  way  of  a 
long  tunnel,  followed  by  a  winding  moun- 
tain pass  down  whose  steep  incline  the  train  rushes 
to  regain  the  low  level  from  which  the  journey 
was  begun,  you  will  find  New  Mexico  a  land 
in  the  sky.  If  its  mountain  ranges  were  leveled 
smoothly  over  its  valleys  and  plains  the  entire  area 
of  more  than  120,000  square  miles  would  stand 
higher  above  the  sea  than  the  summit  of  any  peak 
of  the  Catskills  or  the  Adirondacks.  Its  broad 
upland  plains,  that  stretch  to  a  horizon  where 
wintry  peaks  tower  high  above  the  bold  salients  of 
gray-mottled  foothills,  themselves  lie  at  an  altitude 
that  in  the  Eastern  States  must  be  sought  among 
the  clouds,  and  at  no  time  will  you  fall  much  below 
an  elevation  oi  5,000  feet  in  traversing  the  portion 
of  the  State  that  lies  along  the  present  route. 

23  -i^^'^f^ 


The  landscape  is  oriental  in  aspect  and  flushed 
with  color.  Nowhere  else  can  you  find  sky  of 
deeper  blue,  sunlight  more  dazzling,  shadows  more 
'£^  intense,  clouds  more  luminously  white,  or  stars  that 
"^  throb  with  redder  fire.  Here  the  pure  rarefied  air 
that  is  associated  in  the  mind  with  arduous  moun- 
tain climbing  is  the  only  air  known  —  dry,  cool  and 
gently  stimulating.  Through  it,  as  through  a  crys- 
tal, the  rich  red  of  the  soil,  the  green  of  vegetation, 
and  the  varied  tints  of  the  rocks  gleam  always 
freshly  on  the  sight. 

You  are  borne  over  mountains  above  forests  of 
pine  and  fir,  with  transient  glimpses  of  distant 
prairie;  through  canyons  where  fierce  rock  walls 
yield  grudging  passage  and  massive  gray  slopes  bend 
downward  from  the  sky  :  along  level  stretches  by 
the  side  of  the  Great  River  of  the  North,  whose 
turbid  stream  is  the  Nile  of  the  New  World ;  past 
picturesque  desert  tracts  spotted  with  sage,  and 
past  mesas,  buttes,  dead  volcanoes  and  lava  beds. 
These  last  are  in  a  region  v/here  you  will  see 
not  only  mountain  craters,  with  long  basaltic  slopes 
that  were  the  ancient  flow  of  molten  rock,  but 
dikes  as  well ;  fissures  in  the  level  plain  through 
which  the  black  lava  oozed  and  ran  for  many  miles. 
These  vast  rivers  of  rock,  cracked,  piled,  scattered 
in  blocks,  and  in  places  overgrown  with  chaparral, 
are  full  of  interest,  even  to  the  accustomed  eye. 
They  wear  an  appearance  of  newness,  moreover, 
as  if  the  volcanic  action  were  of  recent  date ;  but 
there  has  been  found   nothing  in  native  tradition 

24 


i-Y'i'l^     \y 


^ytiy- 


■-■^'^^ 


that  has  any  direct  bearing  upon  them.  Doubtless 
they  are  many  centuries  old. 

Geologically  their  age  is  of  course  determinable, 
but  geology  deals  in  rock  epochs;  it  talks  darkly  of 
millions  of  years  between  events,  and  in  particulars 
is  careful  to  avoid  use  of  the  calendar.  It  is  well 
to  remember  that  the  yesterday  of  creation  is  singu- 
larly barren  of  mankind.  We  are  practically  con- 
temporaries of  Adam  in  the  history  of  the  cosmos, 
and  all  of  ancient  and  modern  history  that  lies 
between  is  a  mere  evanescent  jumble  of  trivialities. 
Dame  Nature  is  a  crone,  fecund  though  she  be,  and 
hugging  to  her  breast  the  precious  phial  of  rejuve- 
nescence. Her  face  is  wrinkled.  Her  back  is  bent. 
Innumerable  mutations  lie  heavy  upon  her,  briskly 
though  she  may  plot  for  to-morrow.  And  nowhere 
can  you  find  her  more  haggard  and  gray  than  here. 

You  feel  that  this  place  has  always  worn  much 
the  same  aspect  that  it  wears  to-day.  Parcel  of 
the  arid  region,  it  sleeps  only  for  thirst.  Slake 
that,  and  it  becomes  a  garden  of  paradise  as  by  a 

25 


magic  word.  The  present  generation  has  proved 
it  true  in  a  hundred  localities,  where  the  proximity 
of  rivers  or  mountain  streams  has  made  irrigation 
practicable. 

The  confines  of  the  Great  American  Desert  are 
narrowing  rapidly.  Do  but  reflect  that  a  quarter 
century  back  the  journey  you  now  make  in  perfect 
comfort  was  a  matter  of  wild  adventure,  at  cost  of 
months  of  arduous  travel  and  at  hazard  of  life,  not 
only  because  of  human  foes,  but  for  scarcity  of  food 
and  water.  One  never  appreciates  the  full  stride 
of  American  progress  until  he  has  traversed  in  a 
Pullman  car  such  a  territory  as  this,  where  Valley 
of  Death  and  Journey  of  the  Dead  are  names  still 
borne  by  waterless  tracts,  and  justified  by  bleached 
bones  of  cattle  and  lonely  mounds  of  scattered 
graves. 

Rescued  from  centuries  of  horror  and  planted 
in  the  front  rank  of  young  rising  States  by  the 
genius  of  our  generation,  New  Mexico  is  aland  of 
broad  ranges,  where  hundreds  of  thousands  of  sleek 
cattle  and  countless  flocks  of  sheep  browse  upon 
the  nutritious  grasses ;  where  fields  of  grain  wave 
in  the  healthful  breeze ;  where  orchard  trees  bend 
under  their  weight  of  luscious  fruits,  and  where 
the  rocks  lay  bare  inexhaustible  veins  of  precious 
metals. 

Here  may  be  found  to-day  as  profitable  large 
ranches  as  any  in  the  country,  and  innumerable 
small  aggregations  of  cultivated  acres,  whose  owners 
sit  comfortably  upon  shaded  verandas  while  their 
26 


servants  till  the  field.  This  is  the  paradox  of  a 
region  whose  softer  scenes  will  often  seem  to  be 
overborne  by  bleak  mountain  and  desert  and  lava 
bed;  that  if  you  own  ten  acres  of  irrigated  land 
here  you  are  that  much-vaunted  but  seldom  en- 
countered individual,  an  independent  farmer.  You 
may  smile  in  a  superior  way  when  you  hear  talk  of 
the  profits  of  bank  stocks.  You  may  look  without 
envy  upon  the  man  who  is  said  to  own  a  gold  mine. 

Scattered  by  the  way  are  sleepy  Mexican  villages, 
ancient  Indian  pueblos,  still  inhabited,  and  those 
older  abandoned  ruins  which  give  to  the  region  its 
peculiar  atmosphere  of  mystery.  The  history  of 
New  Mexico  formerly  began  with  a  pretty  legend 
that  dated  back  to  a  time  in  Spain  when  a  sover- 
eign, fighting  amid  his  native  mountains,  found 
himself  hemmed  in  by  the  enemy,  and  would  have 
perished  with  all  his  army  had  not  one  of  his  enter- 
prising soldiers  discovered  an  unsuspected  pass,  the 
entrance  to  which  he  marked  with  a  bleached 
cow's  skull  that  lay  convenient  to  his  hand,  and 
then  returning  led  a  retreat  through  the  pass  to 
safety.  By  order  of  the  grateful  king  the  family 
name  of  the  soldier  was  thereupon  made  Cabeza 
de  Vaca  —  cow's  head — to  celebrate  so  opportune  a 
service.  It  is  to  be  hoped  he  got  a  doubloon  or 
two  as  well,  but  on  that  particular  head  tradition 
is  silent.  However,  among  the  soldier's  descend- 
ants a  talent  for  discovery  became  a  notorious  fam- 
ily trait.     It   amounted   to   a   passion   with  them. 

You   could    not    get    into    any   difficulty   but   a 


Cabeza  de  Vaca  could  find  you  a  way  out.  Natu- 
rally, then,  when  Narvaez  set  sail  from  Spain  for 
the  Florida  coast,  three  and  a  half  centuries  ago, 
he  took  one  of  that  family  along  for  a  mascot. 
The  expedition  came  to  grief  on  the  Florida  reefs, 
but  the  mascot  survived,  and  with  him  three  others 
who  had  wisely  clung  to  him  when  the  ship  went 
to  pieces.  Stranded  upon  an  unknown  coast,  men- 
aced by  hostile  Indians,  an  ocean  behind  and  a 
wilderness  before,  this  Cabeza  de  Vaca  felt  his 
heart  strangely  stirred  within  him.  He  gave  no 
thought  to  the  dangers  of  his  situation  ;  he  per- 
ceived only  that  he  had  the  opportunity  of  a  life- 
time to  discover  something.  So,  remembering  that 
in  far  Mexico  his  fellow  countrymen  were  known  to 
dwell,  he  pretended  to  pull  a  long  face  and  told  his 
companions  that  to  reach  the  Mexican  settlements 
was  the  only  hope  of  surviving.  Then  brandishing  his 
sword  in  a  becoming  manner  he  called  to  them  to 
come  on,  and  led  them  across  the  unexplored  con- 
tinent of  North  America,  in  the  year  of  grace 
1536,  by  a  route  which  incidentally  included  what 
is  now  known  as  New  Mexico.  Thus,  in  sub- 
28 


stance,  runs  the  legend,  which  adJs  that  he  had  a 
queer  tale  to  tell,  on  arrival,  of  Seven  Cities  of 
Cibola,  and  outlandish  people  of  heathen  appear- 
ance and  notions,  but  of  temperate  and  industrious 
habits  withal,  and  presumably  rich  in  treasures  of 
silver  and  gold  ;  which  incited  Coronado  to  send 
out  an  expedition  under  Marcos  de  Nizza  in  1539, 
and  a  year  later  himself  to  take  charge  of  the  first 
real  invasion,  conquering  native  towns  by  force  of 
arms  on  his  way. 

But  in  the  light  of  modern  historical  research 
Cabeza  de  Vaca's  local  fame  dwindles;  his  head 
diminishes.  It  is  denied  that  he  ever  saw  New 
Mexico,  and  the  title  of  discoverer  is  awarded  to 
Marcos  de  Nizza.  It  does  not  really  matter,  for 
in  either  event  the  conquest  was  by  Coronado,  in 
whose  footsteps  Spanish  colonization  was  first 
enabled  to  advance  into  the  region,  which,  it 
should  be  remembered,  was  for  a  long  time  there- 
after a  vaguely  defined  area  of  much  greater  extent 
than  to-day.  The  friars  early  began  their  work  of 
founding  missions,  and  in  the  course  of  time  estab- 
lished forty  churches,  attended  by  some  30,000 
native  communicants.  These  natives  revolted  in 
1680,  and  drove  the  Spaniards  out  of  the  territory, 
successfully  resisting  their  return  for  a  period  of 
twelve  years.  From  the  time  of  their  ultimate 
subjection  (1692)  the  country  grew  in  population 
and  commercial  importance  until,  early  in  the  pres- 
ent century,  its  trade  with  Missouri  and  the  East 
became    very    valuable.     The    route    traversed   by 

29  / 


pack-mules  and  prairie  schooners  loaded  with  mer- 
chandise will  forever  be  remembered  as  the  Santa 
Fe  Trail,  and  was  almost  identical  with  that  fol- 
lowed by  Coronado. 

It  is  at  present  for  the  greater  part  of  the  dis- 
tance the  route  of  the  Atchison,  Topeka  &  Santa 
Fe  Railway  between  the  Missouri  River  and  Santa 
Fe ;  and  through  western  Kansas,  southeastern 
Colorado,  over  the  Raton  Pass  and  at  many  points 
in  New  Mexico,  may  easily  be  seen  from  the  train. 
The  distance  was  8oo  miles,  and  a  round  trip  then 
consumed  IIO  days. 

Merchandise  to  an  enormous  value  was  often 
carried  by  a  single  caravan.  In  spite  of  the  pro- 
tection of  a  strong  military  escort  the  trail  was 
almost  continuously  sodden  with  human  blood  and 
marked  by  hundreds  of  rude  graves  dug  for  the 
mutilated  victims  of  murderous  Apaches  and  other 
tribes.  Every  scene  recounted  by  romances  ^of 
Indian  warfare  had  its  counterpart  along  the  Santa 
Fe  Trail.  The  ambush,  the  surprise,  the  mas- 
sacre, the  capture,  the  torture,  in  terrifying  and 
heart-breaking  detail,  have  been  enacted  over  and 
over. 

Only  with  the  advent  of  the  railroad  did  the  era 
of  peace  and  security  begin.  To-day  the  Apache  is 
decimated  and  harmless,  and,.with  the  Pueblo  Indian 
and  the  Mexican,  forms  a  romantic  background  to  a 
thriving  Anglo-Saxon  civilization. 

It  is  this  background  that  gives  New  Mexico  its 
peculiar  charm  to  the  thoughtful  tourist;  not  alone 

30 


its  tremendous  mountain  ranges, 
its  extensive  uplands,  its  fruitful 
valleys,  or  its  unsurpassed  equa- 
bility of  climate.  Its  population 
includes  9,500  Pueblo  Indians,  4,000  Navahos  and 
1,350  Apaches. 

RATON  TO  LAS  VEGAS. 

The  Culebra  and  Cimarron  ranges  of  the  Rockies 
shut  in  the  lower  western  sky  as  the  train  whirls 
along  southward  from  Raton  to  Las  Vegas.  En 
route  you  pass  Springer,  whence  stages  run  to  the 
Red  River  mines  and  to  Taos  pueblo ;  Wagon 
Mound,  a  former  Mexican  frontier  customhouse  and 
a  picturesque  point  on  the  Santa  Fe  Trail ;  and  Wat- 
rous,  at  the  head  of  Mora  Canyon,  near  old  Fort 
Union.  Mora  Canyon  is  fifty  miles  long,  a  rather 
modest  aflfair,  compared  with  Apache  Canyon  and 
the  greater  gorges  of  Arizona,  but  typical  of  this 
land  of  deeply  cutting  streams.  Within  a  few  miles 
of  Watrous  is  Valmora  Ranch,  at  an  altitude  of 
6,300  feet.  Its  thousand  level  acres  lie  in  the  valley 
of  the  Coyote,  protected  by  high  mesa  lands.  Here 
a  new  sanitarium  has  been  established,  where  one 
may  enjoy  pure  air,  sunshine  and  outdoor  life. 

The  little  Rio  Gallinas  issues  by  a  tortuous  path 
through  rugged,  tree-fringed  canyon  walls  from  a 
spur  of  the  Rockies  half  a  dozen  miles  northwest 
from  the  city  of  Las  Vegas.  These  vegas  or 
meadows  gradually  broaden   until  they  finally  open 

31 


up  into  the  broad  New  Mexican  plain  that  sweeps 
away  toward  the  southeast.  Ahnost  at  the  verge 
of  plain  and  mountain,  the  city  of  Las  Vegas  has 
grown  into  prominence.  It  is  the  commercial 
metropolis  of  northern  New  Mexico,  and  the  second 
cicy  in  the  State  in  size  and  importance.  Its 
8,000  inhabitants,  with  the  consequent  social  life, 
its  important  wool-shipping  interests,  and  the  fact 
that  it  is  the  headquarters  of  the  New  Mexican 
division  of  the  Santa  Fe,  may  not  in  themselves  be 
things  to  attract  special  attention  from  the  traveler. 
But  there  are  other  things  at  Las  Vegas. 

First  of  all  for  the  stranger,  there  has  been 
built  a  hotel,  so  conspicuous  in  its  comfort  and 
its  attractions  as  to  command  attention.  The 
Castaiieda  it  is  called,  erected  a  few  years  ago 
near  the  depot,  and  combining  the  functions  of 
a  railway  dining-room  and  hotel.  It  is  a  long, 
low  building  two  stories  high,  faced  with  brick, 
roofed  with  red  tiles,  and  patterned  after 
the  old  California  missions.  This  hotel  is  strictly 
modern  throughout  in  equipment  and  in  manage- 
ment. It  is  under  the  direction  of  Fred  Harvey, 
whose  name  stands  as  a  synonym  of  satisfactory 
hotel  management. 


The  CastaneJa 


Las  Vegas  itself,  with  its  large  stores,  banks, 
offices,  hotel,  and  town  Hfe,  its  attractive  cHmate 
and  its  accessibility,  entertains  many  a  stranger  in 
the  course  of  a  year,  and  is  steadily  growing  in 
popularity  as  a  resort.  Its  surroundings,  readily 
visited  by  strangers,  offer  varied  forms  of  entertain- 
ment. 

LAS  VEGAS  TO   ALBUQUERQUE. 

Traveling  from  Las  Vegas  to  Albuquerque  the 
Glorieta  range  of  the  Rockies  is  crossed  through 
Glorieta  Pass  (altitude,  7,453  feet).  The  upclimb 
takes  you  near  Starvation  Peak,  best  seen  from 
Chapelle  station.  One  legend  says  that  a  large 
band  of  Spaniards  was  surrounded  here  by  Nava- 
hos  in  1800  and  starved  to  death;  another  story 
ascribes  the  cross  on  summit  to  the  Brotherhood  of 
Penitentes.  However  the  name  may  have  origi- 
nated, the  peak  itself  is  a  prominent  landmark. 

Not  far  from  the  main  line,  the  head  waters  of 
the  Pecos  River  can  be  reached  —  a  famous  haunt 
of  the  black-spotted  mountain  trout.  Within  ten 
miles  of  Glorieta  there  are  a  number  of  deep  pools, 
which,  carefully  whipped  with  the  proper  flies,  will 
yield  trout  weighing  up  to  four  pounds.  Parties 
wishing  to  fish  in  the  Pecos  can  find  accommoda- 


~:r^ 


Pueblo  of  Taos 


£/  Or//2,  /,«/;/>',  N.  M. 


tions  at  Mountain  View  and  other  ranches  in  the 
vicinity  of  Glorieta.  Every  little  pool  in  the  IVJora 
River,  a  tributary  of  the  Pecos  near  this  point, 
seems  to  be  alive  with  trout,  though  the  larger  fish 
are  more  abundant  in  the  main  stream.  Rainbow 
and  eastern  brook  trout  are  nearly  as  plentiful  as 
the  native  varieties. 

The  crumbling  ruins  of  old  Pecos  Church  — 
most  venerable  pile  in  New  Mexico  —  are  four 
miles  from  Pecos  station,  on  the  mythical  site  of 
that  Aztec  city  where  Montezuma  is  said  to  have 
been  born. 

The  downward  ride  is  through  Apache  Canyon, 
where,  in  1847,  noted  battles  were  fought  between 
Kearney's  Army  of  the  West  and  the  Mexicans, 
and  in  1862  between  Federal  and  Confederate 
forces.  Even  here  in  the  mountain  solitudes  war 
would  not  be  denied  its  cruel  harvest. 

At  Lamy  (named  for  the  good  archbishop)  there 
is  a  branch  line  to  Santa  Fe,  and  a  new  station 
hotel,  El  Ortiz,  a  low,  one-story  building,  fash- 
ioned like  a  Mexican  adobe,  and  managed  by  Fred 
Harvey. 

35 


The  main  line  continues  along  the  tortuouS 
Galisteo  River  to  the  Rio  Grande  del  Norte  at 
Domingo,  and  down  that  sluggish  stream  of  the 
sand-bars  to  Albuquerque,  the  commercial  metrop- 
olis of  central  New  Mexico. 

Albuquerque,  the  point  of  junction  of  three  lines 
of  the  Santa  Fe  System  —  that  from  the  East,  that 
to  the  Pacific  Ocean,  and  that  to  the  Mexican 
boundary  —  has  never  been  extensively  advertised 
as  a  health  resort,  though  it  possesses  valid  claims 
for  being  so  considered.  Its  attractions  have 
been  multiplied  by  the  erection  of  a  splendid  rail- 
way hotel,  the  Alvarado,  conducted,  as  is  the  Cas- 
tarieda  at  Las  Vegas,  by  Fred  Harvey.  As  the 
traveler  leaves  the  train,  this  hotel  is  his  first 
and  most  enduring  impression.  A  wide-spreading, 
low  building,  like  a  great  Spanish  mission  save  for 
its  newness;  rough,  gray  walls,  and  a  far-reaching 
procession  of  arches  ,*  a  red-tiled  roof  with  many 
towers  —  this  is  the  Alvarado.  It  looks  out  across 
the  plain  to  where  purple  distant  peaks  are  set 
against  a  turquoise  sky.  Behind  it  lies  the  city ; 
before  it  the  valley  stretches  to  the  shouldering 
hills.  The  hotel  proper  is  more  than  a  hundred 
yards  long,  sixty  yards  wide,  and  is  built  around  a 
court  or  peristyle,  as  its  general  architecture  demands. 
It  is  connected  by  a  two  hundred  foot  arcade  with 
the  new  Santa  Fe  depot,  an  edifice  in  perfect  har- 
mony with  the  artistic  lines  of  the  main  structure. 
In  form  and  color,  as  well  as  historical  associa- 
tion and  the  detailed  beauty  of  its  generous  plan, 


the  Alvarado  is  a  distinct  architectural 
achievement.  Inside,  the  Spanish  effect 
in  decoration  is  thoroughly  and  con- 
sistently observed.  The  dining  hall  is 
the  largest  room  in  the  building.  Its 
furnishings,  severely  elegant  in  design, 
contrast  pleasantly  with  the  snow  and  glitter  of  the 
tables ;  a  great  projecting  fireplace  adds  the  inevit- 
able cheer  of  an  open  hearth.  But  of  the  hotel, 
as  such,  nothing  need  be  said  except  that  it  is  the 
masterpiece  of  the  Harvey  sj^stem  ;  and  this  fact, 
to  the  traveler  who  knows,  is  all-sufficient. 

It  furnishes  to  the  tourist  a  most  luxurious 
stopping-place  in  the  midst  of  a  trans-continental 
journey  —  an  enjoyable  and  interesting  rest  on  the 
way  to  California. 

A  special  attraction  which  the  Alvarado  offers, 
not  to  be  duplicated  elsewhere,  is  a  collection  of 
Indian  relics  and  products  gathered  during  years  of 
studious  effort.  In  Hopl,  Navaho,  Zuni,  Apache, 
Pima  and  Mexican  treasures  of  handicraft  this 
collection  is  well  nigh  unrivaled,  and  more  than 
justifies  a  halt  in  the  attractive  hotel  which 
houses  it.  Here  are  assembled  Navaho  and 
Hopi  weavers,  potters,  silversmiths  and  basket- 
makers  engaged  in  their  various  crafts.  A  model 
of  an  Indian  pueblo  is  shown  ;  also  the  finest 
wares  from  all  the  neighboring  region. 

Albuquerque  itself  lies  at  an  altitude  of  4,935 
feet  above  sea-level,  on  a  sunny  slope  of  a  broad 
plain,  amply  protected  against  sudden  storms  by 

37 


.'i53<)|i> 


the  neighboring  high  mountain  ranges.  The  winters 
are  generally  open  and  bright,  and  the  atmosphere 
almost  wholly  devoid  of  humidity.  The  ancient 
settlement  dates  back  to  the  Spanish  invasion, 
while  the  new  town,  with  a  population  of  lO.OOO 
Americans  and  all  the  improvements  of  a  young 
city,  had  its  beginning  with  the  advent  of  the  Santa 
Fe  Railway. 

But  Albuquerque,  aside  from  its  life  as  a  new 
commercial  center,  makes  other  and  more  subtle  de- 
mands upon  the  attention  ;  while  not  equal  to  Santa 
Fe  as  a  picture  of  the  past,  the  years  have  also 
touched  it  with  old  colors.  The  Mexican  quarter 
—  the  old  town  —  still  sleeps  in  the  sun  as  it  did  a 
century  —  two  centuries  —  ago.  And  all  about  it 
are  the  dwellings  of  the  most  conservative  people, 
the  Pueblos  of  the  Rio  Grande  valley,  living  as 
their  fathers  lived  before  the  first  invader  came. 


SANTA  FE. 

In  1605  the  Spaniards  founded  this  city  under  the 
name  La  Ciudad  Real  de  la  Santa  Fe  de  San  Fran- 
cisco {x.\\GTr\xcQ'\X.y  oi  the  Holy  Faith  of  St.  Francis), 
which,  like  many  another  ponderous  Spanish  title, 
has  been  reduced  to  lower  terms  in  the  lapse  of  time. 
It  occupies  a  plain  rimmed  by  mountains  whose 
peaks  tower  to  heights  of  10,000  and  13,000  feet. 
The  extraordinary  interest  of  its  early  days  is  kept  i 
alive  by  monuments  which  the  kindly  elements  pro- 
tect from  the  accustomed  ravages  of  the  centuries. 


North  Em 


1  he  Alvarado 


The  territorial  governor  until  recently  received  his 
guests  in  the  same  room  that  served  visitors  in  the 
time  of  the  first  viceroy.  Nineteen  American  and 
seventy-six  Mexican  and  Spanish  rulers  have  suc- 
cessively occupied  the  palace.  Here  it  was  that 
General  Lew  Wallace  finished  "Ben  Hur."  It 
has  survived  all  those  strange  modulations  by  which 
a  Spanish  province  has  become  a  State  of  the 
Union.  The  story  of  the  palace  stretches  back 
into  real  antiquity,  to  a  time  when  the  Inquisition 
had  power,  when  zealous  friars  of  the  Order  of 
St.  Francis  exhorted  throngs  of  dimly  comprehend- 
ing heathen,  and  when  the  mailed  warriors  of 
Coronado  told  marvelous  uncontradicted  tales  of 
ogres  that  were  believed  to  dwell  in  the  surround- 
ing wilderness.  Beneath  its  roof  are  garnered  price- 
less treasures  of  that  ancient  time,  which  the 
curious  visitor  may  behold.  There  are  faded  pictures 
of  saints  painted  upon  puma-skins,  figures  laboriously 
wrought  in  wood  to  shadow  forth  the  Nazarene; 
votive  offerings  of  silver,  in  the  likeness  of  legs,  arms 
and  hands,  brought  to  the  altar  of  Our  Lady  by 
those  who  had  been  healed  of  wounds  or  disease; 
rude  stone  gods  of  the  heathen,  and  domestic  utensils 
and  implements  of  war.  There,  too,  may  be  seen 
ancient  maps  of  the  New  World,  lettered  in  Latin 
and  in  French,  on  which  California  appears  as  an 
island  of  the  Pacific,  and  the  country  at  large  is 
confidently  displayed  with  grotesque  inaccuracy. 

Nearly  a  mile  distant  from  the  palace,  on  an 
eminence  overlooking   the    town,    stands   the    ok 

39 


Chapel  Rosario,  now  neighbored  by  the  Ramona 
school  for  Apache  children.  In  1692  Diego  de 
Vargas,  marching  up  from  the  south,  stood  upon 
that  hill  with  his  little  army  of  200  men  and  looked 
over  into  the  city  from  which  his  countrymen 
had  been  driven  with  slaughter  a  dozen  years 
before.  There  he  knelt  and  vowed  to  build  upon 
the  spot  a  chapel  for  Our  Lady  of  the  Rosary, 
provided  she  would  fight  upon  his  side. 

The  town  was  carried  by  assault  after  a  des- 
perate contest  of  eleven  hours'  duration,  and  the 
chapel  was  built.  It  savors  quaintly  to  us  of  a  less 
poetic  age  that  those  royal  old  adventurers  should 
have  thought  themselves  hand  and  glove  with  the 
celestial  powers;  but  they  certainly  made  acknowl- 
edgment of  services  rendered  upon  occasion. 

There  are  other  places  of  antiquarian  interest, 
where  are  stored  Spanish  archives  covering  two 
and  a  quarter  centuries,  and  numerous  paintings 
and  carvings  of  great  age ;  the  Church  of  Our 
Lady  of  Light,  the  Cathedral  of  San  Francisco,  and 
finally  the  Church  of  San  Miguel  and  the  Old 
House,  isolated  from  everything  that  is  in  touch 
with  our  century  by  their  location  in  the  heart  of 
a  decrepit  old  Mexican  village.  Here,  at  last,  is 
the  real  Santa  Fe  of  the  traveler's  anticipation ;  a 
straggling  aggregation  of  low  adobe  huts,  divided 
by  narrow  winding  lanes,  where  in  the  sharply 
defined  shadows  leathern-faced  old  men  and  women 
sit  in  vacuous  idleness,  and 
burros  loaded  with  firewood 
40 


.^->i?i 


/i^ 


or  garden  truck  pass  to  and  fro;  and  in  small 
groups  of  chattering  women  one  catches  an  occa- 
sional glimpse  of  bright  interrogating  eyes  and  a 
saucy  face,  in  spite  of  the  closely  drawn  tapelo. 

If  now  some  sturdy  figure  in  bright,  clanking 
armor  should  obligingly  pass  along,  you  would 
have  an  exact  picture  of  the  place  as  it  appeared 
two  and  a  half  centuries  ago.  Nothing  but  that 
figure  has  departed  from  the  scene,  and  substan- 
tially nothing  new  has  entered  in.  It  does  not 
change.  The  hurrying  activities  and  transitions  of 
the  outer  world,  from  which  it  is  separated  by  only 
a  narrow  arroyo,  count  for  nothing  here.  One 
questions  if  the  outline  of  a  shadow  has  altered  for 
generations.  The  Old  House,  where  Coronado  is 
said  to  have  lodged  in  1540,  and  the  Church  of 
San  Miguel,  which  was  sacked  in  1680,  are  not 
distinguishable  from  their  surroundings  by  any  air 
of  superior  age.  All  is  old,  a  petrifaction  of  medieval 
human  life  done  in  adobe. 

Santa  Fe  is  the  center  of  archaeological  research 
in  America.  Here  in  the  old  Governor's  Palace, 
the  American  institute  of  archaeology  has  established 
its  principal  school  and  museum,  along  the  lines  of 
those  already  in  existence  at  Athens,  Rome  and 
Jerusalem.  Besides  conducting  important  excava- 
tions in  Guatemala,  Yucatan  and  Alaska,  work  is 
being  carried  on  among  the  prehistoric  clifi-dwellings 
at  Pajarito  Park,  Puye 
and  Rito  de  los  Frijoles, 
within  half  a  day's  journey 
of  New  Mexico's  capital. 


The  Old 

Governor's 

Palace 


This  "  home  of  the  ancients  "  embraces  the  plateau 
region  ten  to  twenty  miles  east  and  west,  between 
the  Rio  Grande  and  Jemez  mountains,  extending 
from  Chama  Valley  to  Canada  de  Cochiti,  fifty 
miles  north  and  south.  The  most  southerly  ruins 
are  twenty  miles  from  Santa  Fe,  scattered  among  a 
hundred  clififs.  In  Frijoles  Canyon,  ten  miles 
farther  on,  1,500  separate  ruins  have  been  discovered. 
A  ruin  on  the  second  mesa  south  of  Frijoles,  where 
the  stone  lions  are,  contains   about   1,200  rooms. 

Puye,  to  the  north,  under  jurisdiction  of  the  Santa 
Clara  Indians,  is  best  reached  by  train  to  Espanola, 
thence  a  twelve-mile  ride  by  team.  Ultimately  the 
whole  Pajaritan  region  will  be  restored,  and  the 
traveler  then  can  wander  through  once-buried  cities 
older  than  Pompeii.  What  has  been  accomplished 
to  date,  both  in  the  field  and  at  the  museum,  is  of 
great  interest. 

Santa  Fe  is  interesting,  too,  for  other  reasons  and 
is  well  worth  a  side  trip  from  the  main  overland 
journey.  Get  ofif  at  Lamy,  stop  at  El  Ortiz,  and 
later  take  the  branch  train.  In  an  hour  you  are 
at  destination,  nearly  7,000  feet  above  the  sea, 
on  a  little  plain,  at  the  foot  of  snowy  peaks,  one  of 
which,  Mt.  Baldy,  rises  to  an  altitude  of  12,623  feet. 
The  older  section  —  quaint  adobeland  —  has  been 
mentioned.  The  newer  section,  built  since  the 
gringo  came,  has  substantial  modern  stores,  resi- 
dences and  public  buildings.  Being  the  capital  of 
New  Mexico,  the  social  life  is  charming.  A  leading 
industry  is  the  manufacture  of  filigree  silver  jewelry 

42 


and  turquoise  ornaments.  Are  you  an  invalid? 
Here  are  outdoor  sanitariums  and  hospitals.  Are 
you  a  lover  of  Indians?  Within  a  few  hours'  ride 
are  several  Pueblo  Indian  villages,  dating  back  before 
the  Spanish  conquest,  and  in  the  suburbs  is  an  Indian 
school.  Do  you  like  Mexican  life?  The  soft-syl- 
labled Castilian  tongue  is  spoken  on  every  street 
corner.  Is  mountain  scenery  vi'hat  you  want  ? 
Just  ride  out  along  the  scenic  drive,  toward  Las 
V^egas,  to  the  headwaters  of  the  Pecos.  Every- 
where there  is  plenty  to  see  and  do.  From  April 
to  November  is  the  pleasantest  season  here  —  yet 
the  winter  visitor  will  find  much  to  enjoy. 


#11 

,    ,.  ,   k   w,>.™i..Niii,»-ii"i.i,»  .r™,),;  ll    I  I'.jl 


Enin  ottTyrwryi  •  N  M- 


x^:'^.^.--^^:, 


43 


Moki  Pueblo  of  Wolpi. 

PUEBLOS. 

More  than  a  score  of  these  many- 
chambered  communal  homes  are  scat- 
Mexico. 
Picuris,  San  Juan,  Santa  Clara,  San  Ilde- 
fonso,  Pojoaque,  Nambe  and  Teseque 
are  within  twenty  to  ninety-five  miles  of  Santa 
Fe,  their  population  varying  from  twenty-five 
to  four  hundred  persons.  From  Domingo  one  may 
reach  the  pueblos  of  Cochiti,San  Domingo  and  San 
Felipe,  while  Sandia,  Jemez,  Zia  and  Santa  Ana  are 
in  the  vicinity  of  Albuquerque.  Few  tourists  know 
that  the  Pueblo  Indians  of  New  Mexico  own  900,000 
acres  of  land,  and  that  since  the  treaty  of  Guadeloupe 
Hidalgo  in  1848  they  have  been  full-fiedged  United 
States  citizens,  though  not  voting,  and  maintaining 
their  own  forms  of  government.  Three  of  the  most 
important  pueblos  are  Isleta,  Laguna,  and  Acoma. 
Isleta  is  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  railroad; 
Laguna  station  now  is  located  about  two  miles 
west  of  the  Indian  settlement,  the  railroad  track 
having  been  moved  a  considerable  distance  north; 
Acoma  is  reached  from  Laguna  or   Cubero   by  a 

44 


drive  of  fifteen  miles ;  the  trip  may  be  made  in  a  day; 
accommodations  for  travelers  are  rather  inadequate. 

The  aboriginal  inhabitants  of  the  pueblos,  an 
intelligent,  complex,  industrious  and  independent 
race,  are  anomalous  among  North  American  natives. 
Many  are  housed  to-day  in  the  self-same  structures 
in  which  their  forebears  were  discovered,  and  in 
three  and  a  half  centuries  of  contact  with  Europeans 
their  manner  of  life  has  not  materially  changed. 
The  Indian  tribes  that  roamed  over  mountain  and 
plain  have  become  wards  of  the  Government. 
But  the  Pueblo  Indian  has  absolutely  maintained 
the  integrity  of  his  individuality,  self-respecting  and 
self-sufScient.  The  extent  to  which  he  has  adopted 
the  religion  of  his  Spanish  conquerers,  or  the 
teachings  of  his  present  guardians,  amounts  to 
only  a  slight  concession  from  his  persistent  con- 
servatism. 

Laborious  efiorts  have  been  made  to  penetrate 
the  reserve  with  which  the  involved  inner  life  of 
this  strange  child  of  the  desert  is  guarded,  but 
it  lies  like  a  vast  dark  continent  behind  a  dimly 
visible  shore,  and  he  dwells  within  the  shadowy 
rim  of  a  night  that  yields  no  ray  to  tell  of  his 
origin. 


Pueblo  of  Zufii 


Hotel  Jlvarado 
Albuquerque 


He  is  a  true  pagan,  swathed  in  scem- 
\^  ingly  dense  clouds  of  superstition,  rich  in 
fanciful  legend,  and  profoundly  cere- 
monious in  religion.  His  gods  are 
innumerable.  Not  even  the  ancient  Greeks  pos- 
sessed a  more  populous  Olympus.  On  that  austere 
yet  familiar  height  gods  of  peace  and  of  war,  of  the 
chase,  of  bountiful  harvest  and  of  famine,  of  sun 
and  rain  and  snow,  elbow  a  thousand  others  for 
standing-room.  The  trail  of  the  serpent  has 
crossed  his  history,  too,  and  he  frets  his  pottery 
with  an  imitation  of  its  scales,  and  gives  the  rattle- 
snake a  prominent  place  among  his  deities. 
Unmistakably  a  pagan,  yet  the  purity  and  well- 
being  of  his  communities  will  bear  favorable  com- 
parison with  those  of  the  enlightened  world.  He  is 
brave,  honest  and  enterprising  within  the  fixed  limits 
of  his  little  sphere,  his  wife  is  virtuous,  his  children 
arc  docile.  And  were  the  whole  earth  swept  bare 
46 


of  every  living  thing,  save  for  a  few  leagues  sur- 
rounding his  tribal  home,  his  life  would  show  little 
disturbance.  Possibly  he  might  not  at  once  learn 
of  so  unimportant  an  occurrence.  He  would  still 
alternately  labor  and  relax  in  festive  games,  still 
reverence  his  gods,  and  rear  his  children  to  a  life 
of  industry  and  content,  so  anomalous  is  he,  so 
firmly  established  in  an  absolute  independence. 

Pueblo  architecture  possesses  nothing  of  the  elab- 
orate ornamentation  found  in  so-called  Aztec  ruins 
in  Mexico,  The  house  is  usually  built  of  stone, 
covered  with  adobe  cement,  and  is  severely  plain. 
It  is  commonly  two  or  three  stories  in  height,  of 
terrace  form,  and  joined  to  its  neighbors.  The 
prevailing  entrance  is  by  means  of  a  ladder  to  the 
roof  of  the  lowest  story. 

The  most  strikingly  interesting  of  New  Mexican 
pueblos  is  Acoma.  It  is  built  upon  the  summit  of 
a  table-rock  with  eroded  precipitous  sides,  350  feet 

47 


.-"A 


.,:-/««<:^^^^ 


Pueblo  of  Laguna 


above  the  plain,  which  is  7,000  feet  above  the  sea. 
Acoma  pueblo  is  1,000  feet  in  length  and  40  feet 
high,  and  there  is  besides  a  church  of  enormous 
proportions.  Formerly  it  was  reached  only  by  a 
hazardous  stairway  in  the  rock,  up  which  the  inhab- 
itants carried  upon  their  backs  every  particle  of  the 
materials  of  which  the  village  is  constructed;  but 
easier  pathways  now  exist.  The  graveyard  con- 
sumed forty  years  in  building,  by  reason  of  the 
necessity  of  bringing  earth  from  the  plain  below  ; 
and  the  church  must  have  cost  the  labor  of  many 
generations,  for  its  walls  are  60  feet  high  and  10 
feet  thick,  and  it  has  timbers  40  feet  long  and  14 
inches  square. 

The  Acomas  welcomed  the  soldiers  of  Coronado 
with  deference,  ascribing  to  them  celestial  origin. 
Subsequently,  upon  learning  the  distinctly  human 
character  of  the  Spaniards,  they  professed  allegiance, 
but  afterward  wantonly  slew  a  dozen  of  Zaldivar's 
men. 

By  way  of  reprisal  Zaldivar  headed  threescore 
soldiers  and  undertook  to  carry  the  sky-citadel  by 
48 


assault.  After  a  three  days'  hand-to-hand  struggle 
the  Spaniards  stood  victors  upon  that  seemingly 
impregnable  fortress,  and  received  the  submission 
of  the  Queres,  who  for  three-quarters  of  a  century 
thereafter  remained  tractable.  In  that  interval  the 
priest  came  to  Acoma  and  held  footing  for  fifty 
years,  until  the  bloody  uprising  of  1680  occurred, 
in  which  priest,  soldier,  and  settler  were  massacred 
or  driven  from  the  land,  and  every  vestige  of  their 
occupation  was  extirpated.  After  the  resubjection 
of  the  natives  by  Diego  de  Vargas  the  present 
church  was  constructed,  and  the  Pueblos  have 
not  since  rebelled  against  the  contiguity  of  the 
white  man. 

Anciently,  according  to  a  native  tradition,  for 
which  Mr.  C.  F.  Lummis  is  authority,  the  original 
pueblo  of  Acoma  stood  upon  the  crest  of  the 
Enchanted  Mesa,  430  feet  above  the  valley,  three 
miles  away,  but  its  only  approach  was  one 
day  destroyed  by  the   falling  of  a  clilif,   and       Vv| 


three  sick  women,   who  chanced  to  be  the    sV'^; 
only  occupants  —  the  remainder  of  the  popu-    \^>  .  "'«*'' 
lation  being  at  work  in  the  fields  below  — 
perished    there,    beyond    reach    of    aid    from 
their  people,  who  then   built  a  new  pueblo 
on  the  present  site. 

In  1897  ^ri  Eastern  college  professor  laid 
siege  to  the  Mesa  Encantada  with  a  mortar 
and  several  miles  of  assorted  ropes,  supple- 
mented by  pulleys,  a  boatswain's  chair,  and  a 
team  of  horses.     By  these  aids  the  summit  was 


reached,  but  the  party  reported  that  nothing  was 
found  to  indicate  that  it  had  ever  been  visited 
before  by  man. 

A  few  weeks  later,  Dr.  F.  W.  Hodge,  of  the 
Bureau  of  Ethnology,  made  the  ascent  with  several 
companions,  aided  by  a  few  short  ladders,  a  guide 
rope,  and  experience  in  mountaineering.  This 
party  found  a  number  of  potsherds  and  fragments 
of  implements  and  ornaments,  all  of  ancient  type, 
and  vigorously  championed  the  claim  that  the  mesa 
was  once  inhabited. 

Afterward  another  part) %  including  Mr.  Lummis, 
Dr.  David  Starr  Jordan,  and  Prof.  T.  H.  Hittell, 
similarly  ascended  and  were  similarly  rewarded. 
The  adherents  of  the  legend  assert  that  the  gnaw- 
ing tooth  of  centuries  of  summer  storm  and  winter 
frost  would  inevitably  denude  the  summit  of  every 
relic  of  that  olden  time  save  such  as  have  been 
securely  pocketed  in  crevices  instead  of  washing 
away.  The  talus  of  the  mesa  abounds  in  ancient 
potsherds,  and  the  rapid  annual  rise  of  rock  detritus 
at  the  foot  of  the  clif?  not  onlv  lends  corroboration 


Tu  rquoise-  drilling 


but  shows  how  recently  the  mesa  has  ceased  to  be 
unscalable.  Even  so,  it  will  be  long  before  the 
casual  tourist  will  aspire  to  its  giddy  crest. 

Laguna  ("the  lake")  was  founded  in  1699  by 
refugees  from  Acoma,  Zuili,  and  Cochiti,  on  a  high 
rock  near  the  San  Jose  River.  Its  old  Spanish 
mission  name  was  San  Josef  de  la  Laguna.  Several 
great  battles  were  fought  here  with  the  Navajos 
and  Apaches.  The  Laguna  Indians  also  occupy 
tributary  villages,  such  as  Paquate,  Negra,  Encinal, 
and  Casa  Blanca. 


III. 


ARIZONA. 


THE  portion  to  be  traversed  is  a  land  of  pro- 
digious mountain  terraces,  extensive  plateaus, 
profound  canyons,  and  flat,  arid  plains,  dotted  with 
gardens  of  fruits  and  flowers,  patched  with  vast 
tracts  of  pine  timber,  and  veined  with  precious 
stones  and  metals,  alternating  with  desolate  beds 
of  lava,  bald  mountainous  cones  of  black  and  red 
volcanic  cinder,  grass-carpeted  parks,  uncouth  vege- 
table growths  of  the  desert,  and  bleak  rock  spires, 
above  all  which  white  peaks  gleam  radiantly  in 
almost  perpetual  sunlight.  The  long-time  residents 
of  this  region  are  unable  to  shake  off  its  charm, 
even  when  no  longer  compelled  by  any  other  con- 
sideration to  remain.  Its  frequent  wide  stretches 
of  rugged  horizon  exert  a  fascination  no  less  pow- 
erful than  that  of  arduous  mountain  fastnesses  or 
the  secret  shadows  of  the  dense  forest. 

There  is  the  same  dignity  of  Nature,  the  same 
mystery,  potent  even  upon  those  who  can  least 
define  its  thrall.  ^    o^    ,  „ 


"iS- 


m^j^~ 


Miners  confess  to  it,  and  herdsmen.  To  the 
traveler  it  will  appear  a  novel  environment  for  con- 
temporaneous American  life,  this  land  of  sage  and 
mesquite,  of  frowning  volcanic  piles,  shadowed  can- 
yons, lofty  mesas  and  painted  buttes.  It  seems 
fitter  for  some  cyclopean  race;  for  the  pterodactyl 
and  the  behemoth.  Its  clif?s  are  flung  in  broad, 
sinuous  lines  that  approach  and  recede  from  the 
way,  their  contour  incessantly  shifting  in  the  simil- 
itude of  caverns,  corridors,  pyramids,  monuments, 
and  a  thousand  other  forms  so  full  of  structural  idea 
that  they  seem  to  be  the  unfinished  work  of  some 
giant  architect  who  had  planned  more  than  he 
could  execute. 

The  altitude  is  practically  the  same  as  that  of  the 
route  through  New  Mexico,  undulating  between 
5,000  and  7,000  feet  above  sea-level,  until  on  the 
western  border  the  high  plateaus  break  rapidly  down 
to  an  elevation  of  less  than  500  feet  at  the  valley 
ot  a  broad  and  capricious  stream  that  flows  through 
alternate  stretches  of  rich  alluvial  meadow  and 
barren  rock-spires — obelisks  rising  against  the  sky. 
This  stream  is  the  Colorado  River,  wayward, 
strenuous,  and  possessed  of  creative  imagination  and 
terrific  energy  when  the  mood  is  on.  It  chiseled 
the  Grand  Canyon,  far  to  the  north  and  east,  and 
now  complacently  saunters  oceanward.  Despite 
its  quiet  air,  not  long  ago  it  conceived  the  whim 
to  make  a  Salton  Sea  far  to  the  south,  and  the 
afiair  was  a  national  sensation  for  many  months. 

The  great  cantilever  bridge  that  spans  it  here  (one 


of  the  largest  of  its  kind  in  the  world)  was  made 
necessary  by  the  restless  spirit  of  the  intractable 
stream.  The  main  suspended  span  is  66o  feet  in 
length  and  the  cantilever  arms  each  165  feet;  the 
cost  was  half  a  million  dollars.  Only  a  few  years 
ago  the  crossing  was  by  means  of  a  huge  pile  bridge 
several  miles  toward  the  north  ;  but  the  river  shifted 
its  channel  so  frequently  it  was  thought  desirable  to 
build  a  new  bridge  down  here  among  the  enduring 
obelisks,  which  are  known  as  The  Needles.  It  is 
a  picturesque  spot,  full  of  color,  and  the  air  has  a 
pure  transparency  that  lends  depth  and  distance  to 
the  view,   such  as   the   bird    knows   in   its    flight. 

The  Needles  form  the  head  of  the  gorgeously 
beautiful  Mojave  Canyon,  hidden  from  view.  The 
Colorado  is  an  inveterate  lover  of  a  chaotic  chan- 
nel. 

It  is  its  genius  to  create  works  of  art  on  a  scale 
to  awe  the  spirit  of  cataclysm  itself.  It  is  a  true 
Hellespont,  issuing  from  cimmerian  gloom  to  loiter 
among  sunny  fields,  which  it  periodically  waters 
with  a  fertilizing  flood  ;  and  while  you  follow  its 
gentle  sweep  it  breaks  into  sudden  uproar  and  hews 
a  further  path  of  desolation  and  sublimity.  One 
who  does  not  know  the  canyons  of  the  Colorado 
has  never  experienced  the  full  exaltation  of  those 
impersonal  emotions  to  which  the  Arts  are 
addressed.  There  only  are  audience-halls  fit  for 
tragedies  of  i^schylus,  for  Dante  and  the  Sagas. 

The  known  history  of  Arizona  begins  with  the 
same    Mark    of    Nice    whom    we     have    already 


accredited  as  the  discoverer  of  New  Mexico,  of 
which  this  State  was  long  a  part :  and  here,  as 
well,  he  was  followed  by  Coronado  and  the  mis- 
sionaries. This  is  the  true  home  of  the  Apache, 
whose  unsparing  warfare  repeatedly  destroyed  the 
work  of  early  Spanish  civilization  and  won  the  land 
back  for  a  time  to  heathenesse.  Its  complete  acqui- 
sition by  the  United  States  dates  from  1853,  and 
in  the  early  days  of  the  Civil  War  it  was  again 
devastated. 

After  its  successful  reoccupation  by  California 
troops  in  i862,  settlers  began  to  penetrate  its 
northern  portion.  Nearly  twenty  years  later  the 
first  railroad  spanned  its  boundaries,  and  then 
finally  it  became  a  tenable  home  for  the  Saxon, 
although  the  well-remembered  outbreak  of  Gero- 
nimo  occurred  only  two  decades  ago.  To-day  the 
war-thirsty  Apaches  are  widely  scattered  among  dis- 
tant reservations,  and  with  them  has  departed  the 
last  existing  element  of  disturbance.  But  Arizona 
will  never  lose  its  peculiar  atmosphere  of  extreme 
antiquity,  for  in  addition  to  those  overwhelming 
chasms  that  have  lain  unchanged  since  the  infancy 
of  the  world,  it  contains  within  its  borders  the 
ruins  of  once  populous  cities,  maintained  by  an  enor- 
mous irrigation  system  which  our  modern  science 
has  not  yet  outdone  ;  whose  history  was  not  writ- 
ten upon  any  lasting  scroll ;  whose  peoples  are 
classed  among  the  undecipherable  antiquities  of  our 
continent,  their  deeds  unsung,  their  heroes  unchron- 
icled  and  unknown. 

56 


Yet,  if  you  have  a  chord  for  the  heroic,  hardly 
shall  you  find  another  land  so  invigorating  as  this 
of  Arizona.  It  stififens  the  mental  fiber  like  a  whiff 
of  the  north  w^ind.  It  stirs  in  the  blood  dim  echoes 
of  days  when  achievement  lay  in  the  might  of  the 
individual  arm  ;  when  sword  met  targe  in  exhilara- 
ting struggles  for  supremacy.  The  super-refinement 
of  cities  dissipates  here.  There  is  a  tonic  breeze 
that  blows  toward  simple  relations  and  a  lusty  self- 
hood. 

ALBUQUERQUE  TO  NEEDLES. 

The  Santa  Fe,  in  traversing  western  New  Mex- 
ico and  Arizona,  climbs  the  Continental  Divide 
from  Albuquerque  (altitude  4,935  feet)  to  Guam 
(altitude  6,996  feet),  a  distance  of  136  miles,  along 
the  interesting  valleys  of  the  Puerco  and  San  Jose. 
There  follows  a  downhill  slide  of  150  miles  to 
Winslow  (altitude  4,343  feet)  beside  the  Puerco 
and  Little  Colorado  rivers.  The  engine  then  pufifs 
up  grade  for  many  miles  through  fragrant  pine  for- 
ests to  a  point  just  beyond  Flagstaff.  There  is  a 
slight  down  grade  to  Ash  Fork  (altitude  5,126 
feet) ,  another  rise  of  twenty-seven  miles  to  Selig- 
man  (altitude  5,260  feet),  and  then  the  train 
easily  drops  down  a  150-mile  incline  to  Needles, 
the  descent  being  nearly  a  mile,  almost  to  sea- 
level.  You  would  scarcely  notice  the  difference 
at  any  given  point,  unless  by 
comparison  with  track  behind 
or  ahead. 

57 


Mi 


A^-V     ,iv 


I 


A 


The  principal  scenes  en  route  will  be  briefly 
noted,  without  attempting  adequate  description. 

Isleta,  "little  island,"  is  a  picturesque  pueblo  in 
the  Rio  Grande  Valley,  occupied  by  six  hundred 
Indians  who  own  flocks,  cultivate  vineyards  and 
work  in  silver.  Laguna  is  mentioned  elsewhere. 
Cubero  is  a  quiet  Mexican  village,  three  miles 
from  the  station,  where  quaint  ceremonies  — 
brought  from  Old  Mexico  —  still  hold  sway;  the 
San  Mateo  Mountains  are  on  the  north  from 
Cubero  to  Grant's.  Northeast  of  McCarty's  is 
Acomita,  an  offshoot  of  Acoma  pueblo.  Lava  beds 
are  seen,  McCarty's  to  beyond  Bluewater,  The 
Zufli  Mountains  are  southwest  of  Grant's  station ; 
San  Rafael  is  on  the  road  thither  in  a  beautiful 
valley;  here,  also  at  Cubero  and  San  Rafael,  the 
strange  rites  of  the  Penitentes  are  performed : 
southward  are  the  pictured  mesa  fronts  visible  as 
far  as  Gallup. 

There  is  a  low  cone  north  of  Bluewater  called 
Tintero,  meaning  inkstand,  whence  lava  once  pro- 
fusely flowed.  The  station  of  Chaves  is  named 
for  a  noted  Indian  fighter  of  early  days.  From 
Thoreau,  three  miles  east  of  Continental  Divide, 
various  interesting  canyons  and  Indian  pueblos  may 
be  reached,  notably  Pueblo  Bonito,  whose  ancient 
ruins  cover  seven  acres,  one  building  containing  a 
thousand  rooms. 

Between  Guam  and  Wingate  are  Navaho  Church 
and  Pyramid  Rock.  Inscription  Rock  is  fifty  miles 
southeast  of  Wingate.     The  southern    border    of 

58 


I 


A  Nwvaho  H^eaver 


the  Navaho  reservation  is  ten  to  fifty  miles  north 
of  the  railway  in  northeastern  Arizona.  The 
Navahos  frequently  visit  Wingate,  Canyon  Diablo 
and  intermediate  stations.  They  are  a  pastoral 
people,  progressive,  intelligent  and  self-supporting. 
They  own  large  numbers  of  cattle,  sheep  and 
goats,  till  small  farms,  make  the  celebrated  Navaho 
blankets,  and  are  expert  silversmiths. 

Thirty-five  miles  south  of  Zuni  Station,  on  Zuni 
River,  is  the  pueblo  of  Zuni,  inhabited  by  a  thou- 
sand Indians,  made  famous  through  the  writings 
of  an  energetic  ethnologist,  Mr.  Frank  Gushing, 
who  lived  in  the  pueblo  for  four  years,  first  as  a 
welcome  guest  and  then  as  a  member  of  the  tribe. 
The  Zunis  always  have  been  an  imperious  people. 
59 


Their  history  prior  to  the  Spanish  occupation  indi- 
cates that  they  were  at  that  time  the  dominant 
Pueblos.  The  Zuili  ceremonial  dances  are  of 
world-wide  renown.  Gallup  is  the  best  point  of 
departure  for  Zuiii  village.  The  trip  is  a  com- 
fortable carriage  ride  of  six  hours  each  way,  over 
good  roads  and  through  impressive  scenery.  Ex- 
penses are  about  five  dollars  per  day  for  each 
person.  Room  and  board,  at  Zuni,  can  be  ob- 
tained at  the  house  of  the  resident  trader. 

Canyon  de  Chelly  lies  fifty  miles  north  of  Man- 
uelito. Adamana  and  Holbrook  are  points  of 
departure  for  Petrified  Forest.  Holbrook  is  the 
railroad  station  for  Fort  Apache,  several  Indian 
villages  and  interior  Mormon  settlements.  The 
Painted  Desert  and  Hop!  buttes  north  of  Wins- 
low,  and  the  MogoUon  Mountains  south,  are 
prominent  features  of  the  landscape  ;  the  old  Con- 
tinental stage  route,  a  continuation  of  the  Santa 
Fe  Trail,  passed  through  Winslow.  Canyon  Diablo, 
Flagstaff,  Williams  and  Ash  Fork  are  referred  to 
further  on. 

The  Hualapai  and  Havasupai  Indian  agency  is 
reached  from  Tinnaka.  The  Hualapai  mainly  live 
at  near-by  stations,  or  act  as  herders ;  the  Havasu- 
pais  reside  in  Cataract  Canyon,  a  tributary  of  the 
Grand  Canyon. 


PETRIFIED  FORESTS. 

From  remotest  epochs  earth  has  striven  against 
tiie  encroaching  sHme  of  seas  in  a  wasting  struggle 
to  free  her  face  to  air.  Those  who  are  learned 
may  tell  j'ou  where  she  is  left  most  deeply  scarred 
by  the  conflict,  but  in  this  region  where  her 
triumph,  if  barren,  is  complete,  and  the  last 
straggling  columns  of  her  routed  foe  are  sourly 
retreating  oceanward,  at  least  her  wounds  are 
bare,  and  with  them  many  a  strange  record  which 
she  thought  to  lock  forever  in  her  bosom.  Long 
ere  Noah  fell  adrift  with  the  heterogeneous  com- 
pany of  the  ark,  or  Adam  was,  perhaps  even  before 
the  ancestral  ape  first  stood  erect  in  the  posture  of 
men  that  were  to  be,  forests  were  growing  in  Ari- 
zona, just  as  in  some  parts  they  grow  to-day.  And 
it  befell  in  the  course  of  time  that  they  lay  pros- 
trate and  over  them  swept  the  waters  of  an  inland 
sea.  ^.__^ 


k 


•,vY->^'<'^ ; .  V  -■.■■■■ 


Eons  passed,  and  sands  like  drifting  snowflakes 
buried  them  so  deep  the  plesiosaurus  never  sus- 
pected their  grave  beneath  him  as  he  basked  his 
monstrous  length  in  the  tropic  waters  and  hungrily 
watched  the  pterodactyl  lolling  in  the  palm-shade 
on  the  rim.  Then  the  sea  vanished,  the  uncouth 
denizens  of  its  deeps  and  shores  became  extinct, 
and  craters  belched  forth  volcanic  spume  to  spread 
a  further  mantle  of  oblivion  over  the  past.  Yet 
somewhere  the  chain  of  life  remained  unbroken, 
and  as  fast  as  there  came  dust  for  worm  to  burrow 
in,  mould  for  seed  to  sprout  in,  and  leaf  for  insect 
to  feed  on,  life  crept  back  in  multiplying  forms, 
only  to  retreat  again  before  the  surge  of  ele- 
mental strife  after  a  century  or  after  a  thousand 
years. 

The  precise  sequence  of  local  events  as  here 
sketched  must  not  be  too  critically  scanned.  The 
aim  is  to  suggest  an  approximate  notion,  to  those 
who  possess  no  better,  of  some  prodigious  happen- 
ings which  have  a  bearing  on  our  immediate 
theme.  If  still  one  chance  to  lack  a  working  idea, 
let  him  remember  that  the  solid  surface  of  the 
earth  is  ceaselessly  changing  contour,  that  it  act- 
ually billows  like  the  open  sea.  It  merely  moves 
more  slowly,  for  if  the  gradual  upheavals  and 
depressions  of  the  earth's  crust  throughout  millions 
of  years  were  performed  within  the  brief  span  of 
an  hour,  you  would  have  the  wildest  conceivable 
spectacle  of  cold  rock  strata  become  as  fluctuant 
as  water,  and  leaping   and  falling  in  waves  whose 

62 


crests  towered  miles  in  air,  and  whose  lengths  were 
measurable  by  half  a  continent.  This  region  for 
hundreds  of  square  miles  was  once  sunk  so  low 
the  ocean  overflowed  it ;  then  upheaved  so  high 
the  brine  could  find  no  footing.  Again  a  partial 
depression  made  it  a  vast  repository  of  rivers  that 
drained  the  higher  levels,  which  in  time  was 
expelled  by  a  further  upheaval.  During  the  peri- 
ods of  subsidence  the  incoming  waters  deposited 
sand  and  silt,  which  time  hardened  to  rock.  But 
in  periods  of  upheaval  the  process  was  reversed  and 
the  outgoing  waters  gnawed  the  mass  and  labored 
constantly  to  bear  it  away. 

So,  to  return  to  our  long-buried  forest,  some 
10,000  feet  of  rock  was  deposited  over  it,  and  sub- 
sequently eroded  clean  away.  And  when  these 
ancient  logs  were  uncovered,  and,  like  so  many  Van 
Winkles,  they  awoke  —  but  from  a  sleep  many 
thousand  times  longer  —  to  the  sight  of  a  world 
that  had  forgotten  them,  lo!  the  sybaritic  chemistry 
of  nature  had  transformed  them  every  one  into  chal- 
cedony, topaz,  onyx,  carnelian,  agate  and  amethyst. 

Thousands  of  acres  are  thickly  strewn  with 
trunks  and  segments  of  trunks,  and  covered  with 
chiplike  fragments.  There  are  several  separated 
tracts,  any  one  of  which  will  seem  to  the  aston- 
ished beholder  an  inexhaustible  store  of  gems, 
measurable  by  no  smaller  phrase 
than  millions  of  tons  ;  a  profusion 
of  splinters,  limbs  and  logs,  every 


63 


'"•^ 


Apache  Canyon 


fragment  of  which  as  it  lies  would  adorn  the  col- 
lector's cabinet,  and,  polished  by  the  lapidary,  might 
embellish  a  crown.  Some  of  these  prostrate  trees 
of  stone  are  over  200  feet  in  length  and  seven  to 
ten  feet  in  diameter,  although  they  are  most  fre- 
quently broken  into  sections  by  transverse  fracture. 

One  of  these  huge  trunks,  its  integrity  still  spared 
by  time,  spans  a  canyon  fifty  feet  wide  —  a  bridge 
of  jasper  and  agate  overhanging  a  tree-fringed  pool. 

Mr.  John  Muir,  the  noted  California  naturalist, 
says  of  the  North  Sigillaria  Forest  (discovered  by 
him  in  1906)  that  the  many  finely  preserv^ed  Sigil- 
laria, Lepidodendron  and  Dadozylon  trees  here,  with 
their  peculiar  roots  and  leaf-marks,  show  plainly 
that  in  this  place  flourished  one  of  the  noblest  forests 
of  the  Carboniferous  period.  The  trees  grew 
where  they  now  lie,  instead  of  drifting  in  from 
elsewhere,  and  many  standing  stumps  are  visible. 

The  forest  covers  many  thousands  of  acres,  in    j 
five  separate  tracts.  I 

The  First  Forest  is  distant  six  miles  from  Ada- 
mana,  being  the  one  most  frequently  visited.  It 
contains  the  notable  natural  log  bridge.  The 
Second  Forest  is  three  miles  south  of  the  first  one 
and  is  smaller.  The  Third  Forest  lies  thirteen 
miles  southwest  of  Adamana ;  it  is  the  largest  and 
has  the  most  unbroken  tree  trunks  of  great  size. 
The  Blue  Forest  is  seven  miles  southeast  and  the 
North  Sigillaria  Forest  is  nine  miles  north;  the  pre- 
vailing color  of  the  former  is  a  beautiful  nemo- 
philia  blue;  the  latter  is  famed  for  its  basin,  the 
64 


north  wall  ot  which  is  sculptured  like 
the  Grand  Canyon.  The  general  charac- 
teristics of  these  different  tracts  are  the 
same.  One  may  also  reach  the  Third 
Forest  from  Holbroolc;  distance  eighteen 
miles.  Round-trip  livery  fare  from  either 
point  is  $5.00  for  one  person  and  $2.50 
each  for  three  or  more  persons.  Mr.  C. 
B.  Campbell  conducts  a  small  hotel  at 
Adamana;  rate  $2.50  a  day.  There 
are  also  good  hotel  accommodations  at 
Holbroolc. 

HOPIS. 

The  Hopi  pueblos  are  seven  in  number:  (Jrai- 
bi,  Shungopavi,  Shipaulovi,  Mishongnovi,  Wolpi, 
Sichomovi  and  Tewa  (also  called  Hano).  They 
are  embraced  in  a  locality  less  than  thirty  miles 
across,  and  are  the  citadels  of  a  region  which  the 
discovering  Spaniards  in  the  sixteenth  century 
named  the  Province  of  Tusayan.  They  are  not 
to  be  confounded  with  the  "Seven  Cities  of 
Cibola,"  whose  site  is  now  known  to  be  Zuni, 
in  New  Mexico.  They  are  reached  by  a  pleasant 
two  days'  wagon  journey  northward  from  Canyon 
Diablo,  Holbrook  or  Winslow,  and  by  a  longer  route 
through  pine  forests  from  Gallup  in  New 
Mexico,  at  an  expense  of  from  $5  to  $7  a  day. 

The  peculiar  attractions  which  they  ofifer  to 
students  of  primitive  community  and  pagan 
ceremonies,  as  well   as  to  the   artist  seeking 

5  65 


i 

■S 

1 

\\    \         •* 


^/^^A/^ 


HOPI    HAIR  DRESSING. 


strange  subjects,  or  the  casual  traveler  hoping  to  find 
a  new  sensation,  are  acting  to  draw  an  increasing 
number  of  visitors  every  year  at  the  time  of  their 
religious  festivities.  This  increasing  interest  has 
resulted  in  improving  the  means  of  access  without 
in  any  degree  modifying  the  conditions  of  the 
villages  themselves  or  the  Hopi  ceremonies.  The 
latter  half  of  August  is  the  time  of  the  most  spec- 
tacular fiestas,  and  at  that  season  a  wagon  journey 
from  the  railway  to  the  Province  of  Tusayan,  with 
the  consequent  camp  life  on  the  road  and  at  the 
pueblos,  need  be  no  hardship. 

There  are  no  tourist's  accommodations  at  the 
villages  except  such  few  rooms  or  houses  as  can  be 
rented  from  the  Hopis  at  reasonable  rates.  Provi- 
sions and  such  household  comforts  as  the  traveler 
considers  indispensable  must  be  brought  in.  The 
roads  and  trails  lie  across  the  almost  level  Painted 
Desert,  which,  except  in  the  Little  Colorado  Val- 
ley and  around  a  few  springs  or  wells,  has  scant 
vegetation.  The  soil  is  sandy  or  rocky,  and  in 
August  the  weather  is  warm.  The  altitude,  aver- 
aging 6,000  feet,  insures  cool  nights,  and  the 
absence  of  humidity  forbids  that  the  daj'time  heat 
should  be  oppressive.  Even  if  the  pueblos  as  an 
objective  did  not  exist,  a  voyage  into  that  country 
of  extinct  volcanoes  and  strangely  sculp- 
tured and  tinted  rock-masses  would  be  well 
worth  the  making.  Aside  from 
the  powerful  charm  exerted  by  this 
region  upon  all  visitors,  there  is 
67 


^"■^^^^^t^^ 


th( 


of 


J   an  invigorating  tonic  quality  in   the  pure  air 
■^  Arizona  that  is  better  than  medicine. 

Like  Acoma,  the  Hop!  pueblos  are   perched 
^'T   on  the  crests  of   lofty  mesas,    and   at   the   first 
'^J-i  were  well  nigh  inaccessible  to  enemies,  their  only 
*^\ approach  being  by  way  of  narrow,    precipitous 
T^lfoot  trails.     In  modern  times  less  difficult  paths 
i  t/  have    been    constructed,    such    fortress    homes 
^ItfAflj     being  no  longer  needful  for  defense.     But  the 
/kk*^  conservative  Hopis  continue  to  live  as  lived  their 

forbears  and  cling  to  their  high  dwelling  place. 
The  women  toil  up  the  trails  with  water  from 
the  spring  below,  and  the  men  returning  from 
the  fields  climb  a  small  mountain's  height  daily. 
They  are  industrious,  thrifty,  orderly  and  mirth- 
ful, and  are  probably  the  best  entertained  people 
in  the  world.  A  round  of  ceremonies,  each 
terminating  in  the  pageants  called  '  dances," 
keeps  going  pretty  continuously  the  whole  year, 
and  all  the  spectacles  are  free.  Subsisting  almost 
wholly  by  agriculture  in  an  arid  region  of  uncertain 
crops,  they  find  abundant  time  between  their  labors 
for  lighthearted  dance  and  song,  and  for  elaborate 
ceremonials,  which  are  grotesque  in  the  Kachina, 
or  masked  dances,  ideally  poetic  in  the  Flute  dance, 
and  intensely  dramatic  in  the  Snake  dance. 


Of  the  last  two,  both  of  which  arc  drama- 
tized prayers  for  rain  at  an  appointed  season,  the 
former  is  picturesque  in  costume  and  ritual,  and 
impressive  in  solemn  beauty;  the  latter  is  grim  and 
startling,  reptiles —  including  a  liberal  proportion  of 
rattlesnakes  —  being  employed  as  messengers  to 
carry  petitions  to  the  gods  of  the  underworld,  who 
are  supposed  to  have  power  over  the  rain  cloud. 

To  the  onlooker  it  seems  impossible  that  venom- 
ous snakes  can  be  handled  so  audaciously  without 
inflicting  deadly  wounds,  yet  it  is  positively  known 
that  they  are  in  no  wise  deprived  of  their  natural 
power  to  do  so.  There  are  those  who  claim  to 
have  seen  the  dancers  bitten  by  their  rattlesnake 
partners,  but  the  claim  lacks  confirmation  by  care- 
ful scientific  observers,  who  incline  to  the  belief  that 
the  snake  priests  avoid  injury  by  dexterity  and  a 
knowledge  of  reptile  ways.  It  is  true  that  the 
priests  possess  a  secret  antidote,  to  which  they 
resort  in  cases  of  snakebite,  which  occasionally 
befalls  the  barefoot  natives,  but  even  in  the  land  of 
the  snake  dance  such  casualties  are  uncommon  and 
the  efficacy  of  the  antidote  remains  a  matter  for 
investigation.  That  the  dancers  are  some- 
times bitten  is  pretty  well  established,  but  the 
observer  may  not  have  distinguished  the  harm- 
less from  the  venomous  snakes,  which  are 
intermingled,  and  the  Hopis  are  reticent  to 
subsequent  inquiry. 

By  some  these  Indians  are  called  Mokis. 
Moki  is  a  nickname.     It  is  said  to  signify    ■ 

69  /■■■ 


"dead,"  and  to  have  been  applied  at  a  time  of 
devastation  by  smallpox,  that  gift  of  civilized 
man  to  the  savage.  Afterwards  the  warlike 
Navahos  applied  it  to  these  peaceable  folk  as  a 
term  of  derision.  Among  themselves  they 
always  are  known  as  Hopi , ' '  good  ( or  peaceful ) 
people." 

The  Hopis  are  hospitable  to  all  respectful 
visitors,  and  they  may  be  visited  at  any  time  of 
the  year  except  in  midwinter,  although  the 
season  of  the  religious  feasts  made  famous  by 
the  snake  dance  is  the  time  of  the  greatest 
attraction. 


CANYON  DIABLO. 


This  is  a  profound  gash  in  the  plateau,  some  225 
feet  deep,  550  feet  wide,  and  many  miles  long.  It 
has  the  appearance  of  a  volcanic  rent  in  the  earth's 
crust,  wedge-shaped,  and  terraced  in  bare  dun  rock 
down  to  the  thread  of  a  stream  that  trickles 
through  the  notch.  It  is  one  of  those  inconsequent 
things  which  Arizona  is  fond  of  displaying.  For 
many  miles  you  are  bowled  over  a  perfectly  level 
plain,  and  without  any  preparation  whatever,  save 
only  to  slacken  its  pace,  the  train  crosses  the  chasm 
by  a  spider-web  bridge,  225  feet  high  and  600  feet 
long,  and  then  speeds  again  over  the  self-same  placid 
expanse.  Several  miles  southeast  of  Canyon  Diablo 
is  a  remarkable  place  called  Meteorite 
Mountain  (also  reached  from  Sunshine 
70 


station) ,  where  it  is  supposed 
that  a  colossal  sky-wanderer 
once  fell.  The  crater-like 
cavity  marking  its  crash  into 
the  earth  is  nearly  a  mile 
wide.  Large  fragments  of 
meteoric  stone  have  been  found  near  by  contain- 
ing small  diamonds,  but  the  main  meteor  has  not 
been  unearthed  yet. 


FLAGSTAFF. 

Flagstaff  is  itself  pictorial  in  character  and  rich 
in  interest.  From  it  one  finds  access  to  most 
remarkable  ancient  ruins  and  to  one  of  the 
most  practicable  and  delightful  of  our  great 
mountains.  It  stands  upon  a  clearing  in  an  exten- 
sive pine  forest  that  here  covers  the  plateau  and 
clothes  the  mountains  nearly  to  their  peaks ; 
although  the  word  park  better  describes  this  sunlit, 
grass-carpeted  expanse  of  widely  set,  towering  pines, 
where  cattle  graze  and  the  horseman  may  gallop 
at  will.  Couched  at  the  foot  of  a  noble  mountain 
that  doffs  its  cap  of  snow  for  only  a  few  weeks  of 
the  year,  and  environed  by  vast  resources  of  mate- 
rial wealth  in  addition  to  the  picturesque  features 
of  its  surroundings,  it  is  fortunately  located. 

The  extraordinarily  pure  atmosphere  of  this  ele- 
vated region  and  the  predominance  of  clear  weather 


Canyon  Diablo 


gave  Flagstaff  the  Lowell  Observatory.  It  is 
charmingly  situated  in  the  heart  of  the  pines,  upon 
a  hill  in  the  outskirts  of  the  tow^n.  Whether  or  not 
the  planet  Mars  has  canals  and  is  inhabited,  is  one 
of  the  many  big  astronomical  problems  which  this 
observatory  has  specially  studied. 

Nineteen  miles  to  the  south  is  Oak  Creek,  a 
noted  trout  stream;  visitors  will  find  excellent 
accommodations  at  Lolomai  Lodge.  The  canyon 
here  is  a  Yosemite  in  miniature. 

Another  favorite  one-day  trip,  by  team  or  auto, 
is  to  Sunset  Mountain,  the  lava  beds  and  ice  caves. 
The  extinct  volcano  here  is  supposed  to  have  been 
active  a  few  centuries  ago.  The  cone  rises  a 
thousand  feet  high;  the  crater  on  top  is  200  feet 
deep  and  half  a  mile  across.  On  the  eastern  edge 
of  the  lava  beds  is  Black  Crater,  from  wliich  millions 
of  tons  of  black  cinders  were  thrown. 

About  fifty  miles  northeast  of  Flagstaff,  on  the 
summit  of  a  mesa,  near  the  Little  Colorado  river, 
are  the  Black  Falls  prehistoric  ruins,  reached  over 
a  fairly  good  road.  These  consist  of  three  large 
groups.  They  are  noted  for  the  many  high  walls 
still  standing  and  the  fine  pottery  that  is  found  there. 


SAN  FRANCISCO  PEAKS. 

Here,  as  in  many  other  parts  of  the  West,  the 
actual  height  of  a  mountain  is  greater  than  is  appar- 
ent to  the  eye.  The  ascent  begins  at  a  point 
considerably  above  where  the  Eastern  mountain 
climber  leaves  of?,  for  the  reason  that  the  whole 
region  is  itself  a  prodigious  mountain,  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  square  miles  in  area,  of  which  the 
projecting  peaks  are  but  exalted  lookouts.  The 
summits  of  San  Francisco  Peaks  are  elevated 
nearly  13,000  feet  above  the  sea,  and  only  6, GOO 
feet  above  the  town  of  Flagstaff.  It  follows  that 
more  than  half  of  the  actual  ascent  has  been  made 
without  any  efifort  by  the  traveler,  and  the  same 
altitude  is  attained  as  if  he  had  climbed  a  sheer 
height  of  13,000  feet  upon  the  rim  of  the  sea. 
There  is  the  same  rarefaction  of  air,  the  same  wide 
range  over  an  empire  that  lies  flat  beneath  the  eye, 
limited  only  by  the  interposition  of  other  mountains, 
the  spherical  contour  of  the  earth,  atmospheric 
haze,  or  the  power  of  vision  itself. 


A^*^ 
^&. 


The  apex  of  Humphrey's  Peak,  the  only  summit 
of  this  mountain  yet  practicable  for  the  tourist,  is 
little  more  than  eleven  miles  from  Flagstafif,  and  an 
excellent  carriage  road  covers  fully  six  miles  of 
the  distance.  From  the  end  of  that  road  a  com- 
fortable bridle-path  leads  to  within  a  few  feet  of  the 
topmost  crag.  The  entire  trip  may  be  made  on 
horseback  if  desired,  and  one  who  is  accustomed  to 
the  saddle  will  find  it  a  preferable  experience,  for 
then  short  cuts  are  taken  through  the  timber,  and 
there  is  so  much  the  more  of  freedom  and  the  charm 
of  an  untrammeled  forest.  The  road  crosses  a 
short  stretch  of  clearing  and  then  enters  the  magnifi- 
cent pine  park,  rising  at  an  easy  grade  and  offering 
frequent  backward  glimpses.  The  strained,  con- 
scious severity  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  giants  is 
wanting  here.  It  is  a  mountain  without  egotism, 
breathing  gentlest  dignity,  and  frankly  fond  of  its 
robe  of  verdure.  Birds  flit  and  carol  in  its  treetops, 
and  squirrels  play.  Grass  and  fern  do  not  fear  to 
make  soft-cushioned  banks  to  allure  the  visitor, 
flowers  riot  in  their  season,  and  the  aspens  have 
whole  hillsides  to  themselves ;  soft,  twinkling  bow- 
ers of  delicate  green,  dells  where  one  could  wish  to 
lie  and  dream  through  long  summer  hours.  The 
bridle-path  begins,  with  the  conventional  zig-zag  of 
mountain-trails,  at  the  foot  of  a  steep  grass-grown 
terrace  that  lies  in  full  view  of  the  spreading  pano- 
rama below.  Above  that  sunny  girdle  the  trail 
winds  through  a  more  typical  mountain  forest, 
where  dead   stalks   of   pine  and  fir  are  plentifully 


i  sprinkled  among  the  living,  and  ugly  swaths  show 
where  the  avalanche  has  passed.  Above  this,  for 
the  remaining  few  hundred  feet,  the  peaks  stand 
bare  —  stern,  swart  crags  that  brook  no  mantle 
I  except  the  snows,  encompassed  by  a  quiet  which 
i    only  the  wind  redeems  from  everlasting  silence. 

The  outlook  from  Humphrey's  Peak  is  one  of  the 
noblest  of  mountain  views.  It  commands  a  recog- 
nizable territory  of  not  less  than  seventy-five  thou- 
sand square  miles,  with  vague,  shadowy  contours 
beyond  the  circle  of  definite  vision.  Categorically, 
as  pointed  out  by  the  guide,  the  main  features  of 
the  landscape  are  as  follows:  Directly  north,  the 
farther  wall  of  the  Grand  Canyon,  at  the  Bright 
Angel  amphitheater;  fifty  miles  away;  and  topping 
that,  the  Buckskin  Mountains  of  the  Kaibab  Pla- 
teau, thirty  or  forty  miles  farther  distant.  To  the 
right,  the  Navaho  Mountains,  near  the  Colorado 
state  line,  200  miles.  In  the  northeast,  the  won- 
derful Painted  Desert,  tinted  with  rainbow-hues, 
and  the  Navaho  Reservation.  Below  that  the  Hop! 
buttes  and  villages.  Toward  the  east,  the  broad 
plateau  and  desert  as  far  as  the  divide  near  Navaho 
Springs,  130  miles  east  from  Flagstafif  by  the  rail- 
road. In  the  southeast  the  White  Mountains, 
more  than  200  miles.  In  the  south ,  successively,  the 
Mogollon  Plateau,  a  group  of  a  dozen  lakes  — 
unlooked-for  sight  in  the  arid  lands  — Baker's  Butte, 
the  Four  Peaks,  and  the  Superstition  Mountains 
near  Phoenix,  the  last  named  160  miles  distant.  In 
the  southwest,  the  Bradshaw  Mountains,  1 40  miles ; 


75 


ca_  -^2. 


—  '-.£? 


Granite  Mountain  at  Prescott,  lOO  miles,  and  the 
Juniper  Range,  150  miles.  The  horizon  directly 
west  is  vague  and  doubtful,  but  is  supposed  to  lie 
near  the  California  line.  In  the  northwest  a  dis- 
tant range  is  seen,  north  of  the  Colorado  River  and 
east  of  the  Nevada  line,  perhaps  the  Sheavwits  or 
the  Hurricane  Mountains.  Among  the  less  remote 
objects  are  the  Coconino  forest  and  basin  on  the 
north  ;  on  the  east  the  Little  Colorado,  traceable 
by  its  fringe  of  cottonwoods,  beds  of  lava  flung  like 
the  shadow  of  a  cloud  or  the  trail  of  a  conflagra- 
tion, and  Sunset  and  Peachblow  craters,  black  cones 
of  cinder  capped  with  red  scoria  ;  on  the  south  and 
southwest  Oak  Creek  Canyon,  the  Jerome  smel- 
ters, and  the  rugged  pictorial  breakdown  of  the 
Verde  ;  under  foot.  Flagstaff  ;  and  on  the  west  the 
peaks  of  Bill  Williams,  Sitgreaves  and  Kendricks, 
neighborly  near. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  the  grandeur  of  such  a  scene, 
San  Francisco  Peak  itself  soon  gains  and  monopo- 
lizes the  attention.  It  has  slopes  that  bend  in  a 
single  sweeping  curve  to  depths  which  the  brain 
reels  to  contemplate,  down  which  a  loosened  stone 
will  spin  until  the  eye  can  no  longer  distinguish 
its  course ;  and  there  are  huge  folds  and  preci- 
pices and  abysses  of  which  no  hint  was  given  in 
the  ascent.  Perhaps  its  most  attractive  single  fea- 
ture is  a  profound  bowl-shaped  cavity 
between  Humphrey's  and  Agassiz  Peaks, 
overhung  by  strangely  sculptured  cliffs 
that  have  the  appearance  of  ruined 
76 


.^^.5*$.  -.    ^i/**.  -!  ' 


castle  walls  perforated  with  rude  doorways, 
windows  and  loopholes.  It  is  called  The  Crater, 
and  is  almost  completely  boxed  in  by  steep  but 
uniform  slopes  of  volcanic  dust,  in  descending 
which  a  horse  sinks  to  his  fetlocks.  On  one  side 
it  breaks  down  into  a  canyon  leading  off  to  the 
plain  and  set  with  tree,  grass,  fern  and  flower.  Its 
axis  is  marked  by  two  parallel  lines  of  bare  bowl- 
ders of  great  size,  that  might  have  been  thrown  up 
from  the  underlying  rock  by  some  prodigious  ebul- 
lition of  internal  forces. 

The  round  trip  to  the  peak  is  customarily  accom- 
plished in  a  day,  but  arrangements  may  be  made  to 
remain  upon  the  mountain  over  night  if  determined 
upon  in  advance,  and  such  a  plan  is  recommended 
to  those  who  are  reasonably  hardy  and  have  never 
seen  the  glories  of  sunset  and  sunrise  from  a 
mountain-height. 

GRAND    CANYON    OF  ARIZONA. 

The  series  of  tremendous  chasms  which  form  the 
channel  of  the  Colorado  River  in  its  course  through 
northern  Arizona  reach  their  culmination  in  a  cha- 
otic gorge  217  miles  long,  nine  to  thirteen  miles  wide, 
and,  midway,  more  than  6,000  feet  below  the  level 
of  the  plateau.  Standing  upon  the  brink  of  that 
plateau,  at  the  point  of  the  canyon's  greatest  width 
and  depth,  the  beholder  is  confronted  by  a  scene 
whose  majesty  and  beauty  are  well  nigh  unbearable. 

Snatched  in  a  single  instant  glance  from  every 
accustomed  anchorage  of  human  experience,  the 

77 


stoutest  heart  here  quavers,  the  senses  cower.  It 
is  one  of  the  few  advertised  spots  which  one  need 
not  fear  approaching  with  anticipations  too  exalted. 
It  is  a  new  world,  compelling  the  tribute  of  sensa- 
tions whose  intensity  exceeds  the  familiar  signifi- 
cation of  words.  It  never  has  been  adequately 
described,  and  never  will  be.  If  you  say  of  Niaga- 
ra's gorge  that  it  is  profound,  what  shall  you  say 
of  the  Colorado's  chasm  that  yawns  beneath  your 
feet  to  a  depth  nearly  fifty  times  greater?  If  you 
have  looked  down  from  the  height  of  the  Eiffel 
tower  and  called  it  vertiginous,  what  shall  you  say 
when  you  are  brought  to  the  verge  of  a  gulf  at 
points  of  which  you  may  drop  a  plummet  five 
times  as  far?  And  when  you  face,  not  a  mere  nar- 
row frowning  gash  of  incredible  depth,  but  a  broad 
under-world  that  reaches  to  the  uttermost  horizon 
and  seems  as  vast  as  the  earth  itself ;  studded  with 
innumerable  pyramidal  mountains  of  massive  bulk 
hewn  from  gaudiest  rock-strata,  that  barely  lift 
the  cones  and  turrets  of  their  crests  to  the  level  of 
the  eye ;  divided  by  purple  voids ;  banded  in  vivid 
colors  of  transparent  brilliancy  that  are  harmonized 
by  atmosphere  and  refraction  to  a  marvelous  deli- 
cacy; controlled  by  a  unity  of  idea  that  redeems 
the  whole  from  the  menace  of  overwhelming 
chaos  —  then,  surely,  you  may  be  pardoned  if  your 
pen  halts. 

An    inferno,   swathed   in   soft    celestial    fires ;   a 
whole  chaotic  under-world,  just  emptied  of  primeval 


78 


floods  and  waiting  for  a  new  creative  word ; 
a  boding,  terrible  thing,  unflinchingly  real,  yet 
spectral  as  a  dream,  eluding  all  sense  of  perspective 
or  dimension,  outstretching  the  faculty  of  measure- 
ment, overlapping  the  confines  of  definite  appre- 
hension. The  beholder  is  at  first  unimpressed  by 
any  detail ;  he  is  overwhelmed  by  the  ensemble  of  a 
stupendous  panorama,  a  thousand  square  miles  in 
extent,  that  lies  wholly  beneath  the  eye,  as  if  he 
stood  upon  a  mountain  peak  instead  of  the  level 
brink  of  a  fearful  chasm  in  the  plateau  whose 
opposite  shore  is  thirteen  miles  away.  A  labyrinth 
of  huge  architectural  forms,  endlessly  varied  in 
design,  fretted  with  ornamental  devices,  festooned 
with  lacelike  webs  formed  of  talus  from  the  upper 
cliffs  and  painted  with  every  color  known  to  the 
palette  in  pure  transparent  tones  of  marvelous  deli- 
cacy. Never  was  picture  more  harmonious,  never 
flower  more  exquisitely  beautiful.  It  flashes  instant 
communication  of  all  that  architecture  and  paint- 
ing and  music  for  a  thousand  years  have  gropingly 
striven  to  express. 

The  panorama  is  the  real  overmastering  charm. 
It  is  never  twice  the  same.  Although  you  think 
you  have  spelt  out  every  temple  and  peak  and 
escarpment,  as  the  angle  of  sunlight  changes  there 
begins  a  ghostly  advance  of  colossal  forms  from  the 
farther  side,  and  what  you  had  taken  to  be  the 
ultimate  wall  is  seen  to  be  made  up  of  still  other 
isolated  sculptures,  revealed  now  for  the  first  time 
by  silhouetting  shadows. 

79 


Loiif^  may  the  visitor  loiter  upon  the  rim,  pow- 
erless to  shake  loose  from  tlie  charm,  tirelessly 
intent  upon  the  silent  transformations  until  the 
sun  is  low  in  the  west.  Then  the  canyon  sinks 
into  mysterious  purple  shadow,  the  far  Shinumo 
Altar  is  tipped  with  a  golden  ray,  and  against  a 
leaden  horizon  the  long  line  of  the  Echo  Cliffs 
reflects  a  soft  brilliance  of  indescribable  beauty,  a 
light  that,  elsewhere,  surely  never  was  on  sea  or 
land.  Then  darkness  falls,  and  should  there  be  a 
moon,  the  scene  in  part  revives  in  silver  light,  a 
thousand  spectral  forms  projected  from  inscrutable 
gloom  ;  dreams  of  mountains,  as  in  their  sleep  they 
brood  on  things  eternal. 

Some  of  the  best  descriptive  writers  have  pre- 
pared accounts  of  this  wonderful  gorge  and  its 
surroundings.  Major  Powell,  Captain  Dutton, 
G.Wharton  James,  F.  S.  Dellenbaugh,  and  others, 
have  written  magnificent  volumes  on  this  theme, 
and  there  are  graceful  pages  devoted  to  the  subject 
in  the  book  and  magazine  writings  of  such  men 
as  Charles  Dudley  Warner,  C.  F.  Lummis,  Joaquin 
Miller  and  Hamlin  Garland.  It  has  been  sympa- 
thetically painted  by  landscape  artists  like  Moran, 
Daingerfield,  Symons,  Williams,  Potthast,  Parshall 
and  Ritschel;  while  men  like  Elmendorf,  Holmes, 
Monsen  and  Brigham  have  portrayed  its  grandeur 
on  the  lecture  platform. 

Fortunately  the  way  to  the  canyon  is  now  easy. 
Instead  of  the  old  route  from  Flagstafif,  a  two  days' 


8i 


stage  journey  twice  a  week,  in  summer  only,  the 
tourist  can  now  make  the  trip  in  three  hours  by 
rail  any  day  in  the  year. 

Travelers  holding  through  tickets  who  wish  to 
visit  the  canyon  are  granted  stop-overs  at  Williams, 
a  town  of  1,500  inhabitants,  noted  for  its  extensive 
lumber  interests.  The  branch,  Williams  to  the  can- 
yon, is  sixty-four  miles  long.  Two  daily  trains  each 
make  the  round  trip  in  six  hours. 

Fray  Marcos,  the  station  hotel  at  Williams, 
under  Harvey  management,  is  up  to  the  Santa  Fe 
standard  of  excellence.  It  is  built  with  wide 
porticos,  like  an  old  Spanish  mission,  and  has 
pleasant  guest  rooms.  The  restaurant,  lobby  and 
large  Indian  room  are  tastefully  furnished  in  arts 
and  crafts  style. 

While  the  Grand  Canyon  may  be  reached  by 
private  conveyance  from  Flagstaff,  in  open  weather, 
the  main  travel  is  by  way  of  Williams.  The  railway 
terminus  at  Bright  Angel  is  in  the  middle  of  the 
granite  gorge  district.  From  there  one  may  reach 
by  carriage  the  eastern  and  western  ends  thereof, 
at  Grand  View  and  Bass's.  Cataract  Canyon,  rock- 
fortress  home  of  the  Supai  Indians,  lies  still  further 
west,  while  north  of  Grand  View  is  the  Little 
Colorado  country  and  the  painted  desert. 

A  quarter-of-a-million-dollar  hotel,  "  El  Tovar  " 
—  named  for  Pedro  de  Tovar,  one  of  the  officers 
who  accompanied  Coronado's  expedition  through 


Fray  Marcos  Hotel,  IVilliams 


THE  RIVER,  FOOT  OF  BRIGHT  ANGEL  TRAIL. 


fe^'^^^  O  .   V ^ 


Arizona  in  1540  —  under  management  of  Fred 
Harvey,  occupies  a  site  7,000  feet  above  sea- 
level,  close  to  the  canyon  rim,  at  the  railway 
terminus,  and  not  far  from  the  head  of  Bright 
Angel  trail. 

El  Tovar  is  a  long,  low,  rambling,  rustic  edifice, 
solidly  built  of  native  boulders  and  pine  logs.  It 
contains  more  than  a  hundred  sleeping-rooms  with 
accommodations  for  nearly  300  guests.  All  the  lux- 
uries are  provided,  such  as  electric  light,  steam  heat, 
hot  and  cold  water,  room  telephones,  baths,  private 
dining-rooms,  a  solarium,  and  music.  The  furni- 
ture is  of  arts  and  crafts  design.  The  inside  finish  is 
mainly  peeled  slabs,  wood  in  the  rough  and  tinted 
plaster,  with  here  and  there  huge  wooden  beams  — 
for  all  the  world  like  a  big  country-club  house. 
The  public   dining-room    is    a   notable   attraction. 

High -class  and  adequate  accommodations  for 
Grand  Canyon  travel  are  thus  assured.  To  accom- 
modate those  desiring  less  expensive  quarters,  Bright 
Angel  Camp — old  Bright  Angel  Hotel  remodeled — 
has  been  opened  as  an  adjunct  to  El  Tovar  under 
Harvey  management,  on  European  plan. 

Adjacent  is  a  unique  structure  occupied  by  Hopi 
and  Navaho  Indians,  who  here  engage  in  their 
curious  handicrafts.  In  this  building  are  also  in- 
stalled several  costly  Harvey  Indian  blanket  and 
basket  collections.  Near  by  are  several  hogans, 
where  a  number  of  Navahos  live.  Expert  basket- 
weavers  and  pottery-makers  are  found  here. 


85 


Grand  View  Hotel  is  under  management  of 
Mr.  Berry,  who  also  cares  for  visitors  at  his  ranch 
near  by.     Accommodations  for  fifty  guests. 

The  most  remarkable  driveway  in  the  world  — 
Hermit  Rim  Road  —  extends  from  El  Tovar  west- 
ward along  the  canyon  rim  nine  miles  to  head  of 
Hermit  Basin,  by  way  of  Hopi,  Mohave  and  Pima 
points.  It  is  thirty  feet  wide,  with  central  section  of 
crushed  rock,  rolled  hard,  making  a  smooth  and  dust- 
less  boulevard. 

Imagine  riding  for  miles  along  the  top  of  a  wall 
which  drops  straight  down  2,000  feet,  with  just 
below  that  another  drop  of  1,500  feet.  The  view 
takes  in  the  north  rim,  the  temples  between,  and 
the  tawny  Colorado. 

Hermit  Trail  has  been  constructed  from  the  end 
of  Hermit  Rim  Road,  seven  miles  down  Hermit 
basin  and  creek  to  the  plateau.  This  new  and 
safe  trail  is  four  feet  wide  with  easy  grades  Regular 
operation  has  been  postponed  until  the  river  section 
is  finished  and  rest  houses  built;  but  special  camping 
parties  from  El  Tovar,  with  guides,  can  go  down 
as  far  as  the  plateau. 

To  fairly  see  the  Grand  Canyon  in  this  vicinity, 
one  should  plan  to  stay  at  least  four  days;  a  week 
would  be  better.  In  a  month  one  might  see  the 
greater  part  of  the  accessible  area  bor- 
dering the  principal  trails. 


86 


Cataract  Canyon 


CLIFF  AND  CAVE  DWELLINGS. 

This  region  abounds  in  ruins  of  the  dwellings  of 
a  prehistoric  people.  The  most  important  lie  within 
a  radius  of  eight  miles  from  Flagstaff.  On  the 
southeast,  Walnut  Canyon  breaks  the  plateau  for  a 
distance  of  several  miles,  its  walls  deeply  eroded  in 
horizontal  lines.  In  these  recesses,  floored  and 
roofed  by  the  more  enduring  strata,  the  cliff  dwell- 
ings are  found  in  great  number,  walled  up  on  the 
front  and  sides  with  rock  fragments  and  cement, 
and  partitioned  into  compartments.  Some  have 
fallen  into  decay,  only  portions  of  their  walls 
remaining,  and  but  a  narrow  shelf  of  the  once 
broad  floor  of  solid  rock  left  to  evidence  their 
extreme  antiquity.  Others  are  almost  wholly  intact, 
having  stubbornly  resisted  the  weathering  of  time. 
Nothing  but  fragments  of  pottery  now  remain  of 
the  many  quaint  implements  and  trinkets  that 
characterized  these  dwellings  at  the  time  of  their 
discovery. 

Fixed  like  swallows'  nests  upon  the  face  of  a 
precipice,  approachable  from  above  or  below  only 
by  deliberate  and  cautious  climbing,  these  dwell- 
ings have  the  appearance  of  fortified  retreats  rather 
than  habitual  abodes.  That  there  was  a  time,  in 
the  remote  past,  when  warlike  peoples  of  mysteri- 
ous origin  passed  southward  over  this  plateau,  is 
generally  credited.     And  the  existence  of   the  cliff- 


87 


dwellings  is  ascribed  to  the  exigencies  of  that  dark 
period,  when  the  inhabitants  of  the  plateau,  unable 
to  (  ope  with  the  superior  energy,  intelligence  and 
numbers  of  the  descending  hordes,  devised  these 
unassailable  retreats.  All  their  quaintness  and 
antiquity  can  not  conceal  the  deep  pathos  of  their 
being,  for  tragedy  is  written  all  over  these  poor 
hovels  hung  between  earth  and  sky.  Their  build- 
ers hold  no  smallest  niche  in  recorded  history. 
Their  aspirations,  their  struggles  and  their  fate  are 
all  unwritten,  save  on  these  crumbling  stones, 
which  are  their  sole  monument  and  meager  epi- 
taph. Here  once  they  dwelt.  They  left  no  other 
print  on  time. 

At  an  equal  distance  to  the  north  of  Flagstaff, 
among  the  cinder-buried  cones,  is  one  whose  sum- 
mit commands  a  wide-sweeping  view  of  the  plain. 
Upon  its  apex,  in  the  innumerable  spout-holes  that 
were  the  outlet  of  ancient  eruptions,  are  the  cave- 
dwellings,  around  many  of  which  rude  stone  walls 
still  stand.  The  story  of  these  habitations  is  like- 
wise wholly  conjectural.  They  may  have  been 
contemporary  with  the  clifi  dwellings.  That  they 
were  long  inhabited  is  clearly  apparent.  Frag- 
ments of  shattered  pottery  lie  on  every  hand. 


Hotel  Escalante,  Ash  Fork,  Ariz. 


CENTRAL  AND    SOUTHERN    ARIZONA. 


From  Ash  Fork,  the  Santa  Fe,  Prescott  &c  Phoenix 
Railway  (a  Santa  Fe  line)  extends  southward 
through  Prescott  to  Phoenix  in  the  Sah  River 
Valley.  In  a  distance  of  about  200  miles  the 
traveler  is  afforded  glimpses  of  nearly  every  variety 
of  scenery  typical  of  Arizona.  There  are  bleak, 
barren  mountains,  and  mountains  covered  with 
forests  of  pine  or  cedar,  on  whose  slopes  are  seen 
the  dumps  of  world-famous  mines. 

There  are  rocky  desert  wastes  where  only 
uncouth  cacti  find  footing  to  give  some  poor  sem- 
blance of  life  and  hope,  and  vast  arid  stretches 
which  in  early  spring  are  overspread  with  flowers, 
among  which  the  poppy  predominates  and  by  virtue 
of  its  superior  size  and  brilliancy  carpets  the  ground 
with  an  almost  unbroken  sheet  of  tawny  flame,  far 
as  the  eye  can  Teach  on  either  hand.  There  are 
waterless  can\ons,  and  canyons  walling  turbid 
streams,  unreclaimed  vales  dotted  with  cattle,  and 
broad  irrigated  valley-plains  level  as  a  floor,  where 
is  cultivated  in  extraordinary  profusion  nearly  every 
variety  of  fruit,  nut  and  vegetable,  not  absolutely 
restricted  to  the  tropics,  in  addition  to  an  enor- 
mous acreage  of  alfalfa  and  the  ordinary  cereals  of 
the  north  temperate  zone. 

Were  it  not  that  modern  tourists  are  somewhat 
h/ase  with  respect  to  landscape  wonders,  and  if 
Arizona  did  not  seem  so  far  off,  so  out  of  the  world, 


,^-«>^ 


i'  '4  \ .  ^I  >w  ii^ 


Prescoti 


it  would  be  as  much  a  fad  to  visit  Point  of  Rocka 
(once  an  Apache  stronghold) ,  near  Prescott,  as  to 
see  the  Garden  of  the  Gods.  The  first-named  is 
a  more  striking  bit  of  rock  grotesquerie  and  fash- 
ioned in  more  titanic  form. 

Ash  Fork,  instead  of  merely  being  as  heretofore  a 
railroad  junction,  now  makes  a  strong  bid  for  tour- 
ist patronage.  A  large  $150,000  Fred  Harvey 
depot  hotel,  the  Escalante,  has  been  opened  there. 
Wise  travelers  arrange  to  stop  over  at  Ash  Fork, 
en  route  to  the  Salt  River  Valley,  and  "rest  up." 

This  hotel  was  named  after  one  of  the  Spaniards 
of  the  Conquest,  Padre  Francisco  Silvestre  Velez 
Escalante,  a  pioneer  Franciscan  priest,  who  jour- 
neyed through  this  country  in  1776. 

Hotel  Escalante  is  of  steel  and  concrete  fireproof 
construction,  built  with  wide  shady  verandas  in  the 
fascinating  Old  Mission  style.  Here  one  may  find 
all  the  luxuries  of  the  metropolis  —  hot  and  cold 
water,  baths,  steam  heat,  telephones  and  electric 
light. 

The  pretty  curio  building  near  by  contains  ex- 
amples of  the  best  Indian  and  Mexican  handicraft. 
It  is  a  very  pleasant  place  in  which  to  while  away 
an  idle  hour. 

Going  south,  one  naturally  expects  warmer 
weather.  Nevertheless  it  comes  as  a  surprise  to 
note  how  abrupt  is  the  transition  from  bleak  winter 
to  budding  spring,  or  from  spring  to  full  midsum- 
mer, by  merely  taking  the  half-day  journey  from 
Ash  Fork  to  Phoenix.  There  is  not  only  an 
90 


■■•<-,vii«iiiii::..  ,.«i;,',',.. .... 


advance  into  sunland,  but  a  drop  toward  sea-level 
of  4,500  feet.  In  one  stretch  of  fourteen  miles  the 
descent  is  nearly  two  thousand  feet. 

En  route  you  reach  Hassayampa  River,  near 
Wickenberg  —  of  which  stream  it  is  affirmed  that 
whoever  drinks  of  its  waters  will  never  afterward 
tell  the  truth,  have  a  dollar,  nor  leave  Arizona. 
Within  a  few  miles  of  this  unreliable  place  is  the  reli- 
able Vulture  Mine,  a  $20,000,000  producer.  The 
Santa  Fe  has  built  a  branch  line  195  miles  long, 
from  Wickenberg  via  Parker,  on  the  Colorado  River, 
to  a  junction  with  the  main  California  line  at  Cadiz, 

Both  north  and  south  of  Prescott  some  pretty 
engineering  problems  have  been  solved  by  rock-cuts, 
trestles,  detours,  and  loops.  At  Cedar  Glade  is  a 
steel  bridge  650  feet  long,  spanning  Hell  Canyon, 
170  feet  above  the  dry  stream  bed..  Here  in  a 
gorge  uptilted  rock-pillars  and  tremendous  bowlders 
lying  shoulder  to  shoulder  contest  the  passage ; 
yonder,  on  a  slope,  you  may  see  far  below  a  second 
parallel  track,  and  below  that  a  third  forming  a 
sweeping  loop  by  which  the  safe  descent  of  the 
train  is  accomplished  and  the  ascent  of  the  opposite 
side  made  possible.  The  way  is  now  cautiously 
over  volcanic  beds  and  rock  terraces;  then  daringly 
along  the  sheer  faces  of  forbidding  cliffs  ;  and  again 
with  a  rush  and  swing  freely  across  level  plains. 

The  developed  agricultural  and  horticultural  areas 
are   in    the    neighborhood    of    Phoenix,  the    State 
capital  and  chief  city  of  Salt  River 
Valley.     The  climate  is  especially 
friendly    to    invalids,  even   during 

91 


the  hot  suniiiKT  montlis,  hut  as  in  the  case  of  other 
Southwestern  health  and  pleasure  resorts,  winter 
brings  the  influx  of  visitors.  The  beneficent  efifect 
of  this  climate  upon  the  sick,  or  upon  those  who 
merely  seek  an  enjoyable  retreat  from  the  harsh 
winter  of  the  North  and  East,  is  not  easily  exag- 
gerated.    The  soft  air  has  a  tonic  quality. 

Low  humidity,  perpetual  sunshine  and  favorable 
breezes  tempt  the  invalid  out  of  doors  and  prolong 
life.  Whitelaw  Reid  writes  that  nowhere  has  he 
seen  a  purer  atmosphere.  It  reminds  him  of  the 
Great  Sahara  and  Mount  Sinai's  deserts.  He  con- 
siders southern  Arizona  as  drier  than  Morocco, 
Algiers  or  Tunis,  and  more  sunshiny  than  Egypt. 
Pulmonary  and  throat  diseases  are  benefited  to  a 
degree  that  borders  on  the  miraculous. 

In  addition  to  a  full  complement  of  hotels,  sani- 
tariums and  hospitals,  a  feature  is  made  of  "  tenting 
out"  in  the  open  desert  all  winter,  to  get  full 
benefit  of  sun,  air  and  country  quiet.  But  Phoenix 
is  not  wholly  a  refuge  for  the  sick.  It  is  a  busy 
city  of  15,000  inhabitants,  mainly  composed  of 
strenuous  Americans,  where  merchants  thrive  and 
wealth  accumulates.  For  the  fashionable  visitors 
and  the  "idle  born"  there  are  provided  golf 
grounds,  palm-shaded  drives,  clubs,  theaters,  the 
ease  of  well-kept  inns,  and  a  delightful  social  life. 
Many  wealthy  Easterners  stay  in  Phoenix  at  least 
a  part  of  each  winter. 

Strangers  will  be  interested  in  the  Pima  and  Mari- 
copa Indians,  who  live  near  the  city  and  who  are 
93 


Pha-nix 
daily  seen  on  its  streets  disposing  of  baskets,  bead- 
work,   pottery  and  mesquite.     The  wholly  up-to- 
date  youthful  Indian  may  be  observed  at  the  U.  S. 
Indian  Industrial  School. 

In  the  foothills  of  the  Bradshaw  Mountains, 
1,971  feet  above  sea-level,  midway  between  Pres- 
cott  and  Phoenix,  and  reached  by  automobile  and 
stage  from  Hot  Springs  Junction,  is  Castle  Hot 
Springs,  a  high-class  Fall,  Winter  and  Spring  resort 
which  offers  the  many  joys  of  life  in  the  open  from 
Fall  until  late  Spring.  The  hotel  comprises  three 
separate  buildings  and  five  bungalows,  modernly 
equipped  with  all  the  conveniences  that  appeal  to 
the  experienced  traveler.  There  are  electric  light- 
ing, cold  storage  and  steam  systems,  also  private 
bath  in  connection  with  most  of  the  rooms.  The 
table  is  excellent.  The  two  bath  houses  are 
equipped  for  the  administration  of  hot  medicinal 
water  by  various  methods.  The  mineral  water  is 
a  mild  lithia,  slightly  alkaline- 
saline  chalybeate,  and  very 
beneficial.  Castle  Hot 
Springs  is  not  a  sanitarium, 
but  a  high-class  resort. 

Social  life  in  Ingleside,  a 
suburban  town  nine  miles 
northeast  of  Phoenix,  cen- 
ters at  the  Ingleside  Club, 
a    graceful     structure    with 

Castle 

Hot  Springs 


annex  bungalows.  It  is  a  family  club,  plus  golf 
links  and  other  outdoor  sports.  Sir  Gilbert  Parker, 
the  novelist,  highly  commends  this  unique  resort. 

The  valley,  of  vi'hich  Phoenix  is  the  center,  is 
one  of  marvelous  loveliness,  which  only  the  painter's 
art  can  convey  to  one  who  has  not  beheld  it.  Of 
the  valleys  of  the  West,  there  are  four  pre-eminent 
in  beauty  —  the  San  Gabriel  and  Santa  Clara  in 
California,  the  valley  of  Salt  Lake  in  Utah,  and 
this  of  the  Salt  River  in  Arizona.  Across  the  rest- 
ful and  infinitely  modulated  green  of  orchard  and 
shade  trees,  of  alfalfa  and  barley  fields,  of  orange 
groves  and  palms,  the  eye  is  led  to  a  distant  horizon 
of  rugged  mountains,  where  shifting  light  and 
shadow  make  an  endless  play  of  color,  astonishingly 
vivid  to  a  traveler  new  to  desert  landscapes,  and 
unceasingly  attractive  day  after  day. 

It  is  for  this  Salt  River  Valley  that  the  United 
States  Government,  with  the  assistance  of  the 
people  to  be  benefited,  has  constructed  the  Roose- 
velt Dam,  one  of  the  largest  irrigating  projects  in 
the  world,  which  will  place  under  certain  irrigation 
additional  land  of  exceeding  fertility  and  will  make 
desirable  farm  homes  for  intending  settlers.  The 
earth  here  lies  full-faced  to  the  sun,  as  level  as  a  calm 
sea,  widening  to  twenty  miles  and  extending  east 
and  west  nearly  a  hundred.  The  sandy  soil  produces 
abundantly.  On  a  few  acres  one  may  make  a  fair 
living.  The  result  of  this  happy 
combination  of  salubrious  climate, 
fertile  soil,   commercial   activity   and 

94 


congenial  society,  is  to  make  Phoenix  a  peculiarly 
favored  place  for  the  traveler's  attention. 

Prescott  is  a  lively  town  of  5,0OO  population,  its 
business  district  newly  built  from  the  ashes  of  a 
destructive  fire  in  1900.  Up  in  the  high  hills,  a 
mile  above  the  sea,  what  wonder  that  the  summers 
are  cool !  Prescott's  growth  largely  depends  upon 
the  mineral  wealth  that  is  being  coaxed  out  of  the 
reluctant  Arizona  mountains  —  a  substantial  basis  of 
prosperity.  The  city  is  also  a  summer  resort  for  those 
v/ho  wish  to  escape  the  heat  of  the  low-lying  val- 
leys. Here  is  located  historic  Fort  Whipple,  the 
frontier  post  so  frequently  referred  to  in  Captain 
Charles  King's  novels.  That  peak,  rising  9,000 
feet  skyward,  is  Granite  Mountain;  you  would 
hardly  guess  it  is  all  of  twelve  miles  away. 

The  greatest  mineral  development  is  in  the  vicin- 
ity of  Prescott.  Here,  among  other  famous  depos- 
its, are  the  United  Verde  copper  mines  and  the 
Congress  and  Rich  Hill  gold  mines,  the  last  named 
situated  upon  an  isolated  summit,  where,  in  early 
days,  gold  was  literally  whittled  from  the  rock  with 
knives  and  chisels.  The  branch  lines  from  Prescott 
to  Crown  King  have  made  easy  of  access  the  rich 
gold  and  copper  mines  of  that  flourishing  district. 
Congress,  four  miles  from  the  junction,  is  a  model 
mining  town.  The  United  Verde  copper  mine  is 
at  Jerome,  which  place  is  reached  by  a  crooked  nar- 
row-gauge line  built  through  a  wild  country. 


/'Afi'' 


IV. 
SOUTHERN  CALIFORNIA. 

A  FEW  miles  beyond  the  Colorado  River  cross- 
ing at  Needles  is  the  railroad  station  of  that 
name,  where  the  remnant  of  the  once  powerful 
and  warlike  Mojave  tribe,  now  become  beggarly 
hangers-on  to  civilization,  love  to  congregate  and 
sell  their  bows  and  arrows  and  pottery  trinkets. 
Their  hovels  are  scattered  along  the  wayside,  and 
the  eager  congregation  of  women  peddlers,  some 
with  naked  babies  sitting  stoically  astride  their  hips, 
and  all  dubiously  picturesque  in  paint  and  rags,  is 
sufficiently  diverting.  The  men  attain  gigantic 
stature,  and  are  famed  for  their  speed  and  bottom 
as  runners. 

River  boats  occasionally  ply  between  the  Gulf  of 
California  and  Needles.  The  town  is  a  Santa  Fe 
division  point,  and  parties  outfit  here  for  the  mines 

roundabout, 

96 


As  a  natural  winter  resort  this  locality  has  few 
>  superiors  in  all  the  broad  health-restoring  region  of 
the  great  Southwest.  When  the  eastern  winter  is 
most  rigorous,  and  scores  of  world-famous  resorts 
are  only  half-way  comfortable,  Needles  is  basking 
under  summery  skies  As  a  rule  the  days  are  warm 
and  invigorating,  without  sudden  and  radical  change 
of  temperature.  The  Colorado  river  is  convenient 
for  boating  and  fishing. 

Tourists  will  be  interested,  too,  in  the  mystic  maze 
of  the  Mojave  Indians,  ten  miles  eastward,  reached 
by  saddle  horses.  A  three-days  invigorating  round 
trip  in  the  saddle  takes  one  along  the  river  trail  to 
the  home  of  the  Chemehuevi  Indians  and  affords 
some  unique  mountain  views,  such  as  Eagle  Moun- 
tain and  Black  Buttes. 

Recognizing  the  natural  merit  of  Needles  as  a 
winter  home  and  a  business  center,  wide-verandahed 
El  Garces  has  been  erected — ^the  new  hospitable 
station  hotel  of  the  Santa  Fe,  two  stories  in  height, 
518  feet  long,  with  sixty-five  guest-rooms  and  a 
dining-room  seating  120  persons.  It  is  named  in 
honor  of  Padre  Francisco  Garces,  who  journeyed 
through  this  region  in  1771-1774. 

As  an  introduction  to  Southern  California  you 
are  borne  across  an  arid  region,  whose  monotony 
intercepts  every  approach  to  California  except  that 
roundabout  one  by  way  of  the  sea.  On  either  hand 
lies  a  drear  stretch  of  sand  and  alkali-,  relieved  only 
by  black  patches  of  lava  and  a  mountainous  horizon 
— a  Nubian  desert  in  very  truth.    Through  this  the 


97  ^^  ^^,^^ 


'l:?!?'lll>i*i»iP«iWinrrn«W^ 

(new 


Et  Garces  Hotel 


train  hastens  to  a  more  elevated  country,  arid  still, 
but  relieved  by  rugged  rocks,  the  gnarled  trunks 
and  bolls  of  the  yucca  and  occasional  grow^ths  of 
deciduous  trees.  Craters  of  extinct  volcanoes  form 
interesting  landmarks,  and  there  are  a  number  of 
rich  mining  districts  tributary  to  the  line,  but  unseen 
from  the  train.  A  strange  river,  the  Mojave,  keeps 
company  with  the  track  for  several  miles,  flowing 
gently  northward,  to  finally  lose  itself  in  thirsty 
sand.  At  Hesperia  are  vineyards — first  hint  of  the 
paradise  just  over  the  range. 

THE  WORLD'S  TREASURE  VAULT. 

When  the  west-bound  Santa  Fe  train  crosses  the 
Colorado  River,  it  enters  the  largest  county  in  the 
United  States.  Sterile  as  is  its  appearance,  it  is  yet 
a  region  of  uncountable  wealth.  Precious  and  base 
metals,  as  well  as  rare  gems,  are  found  in  the  ledges 
which  seam  every  mountain  range,  while  the  valleys 
are  a  vast  storehouse  of  borax,  soda,  gypsum,  nitre, 
salt  and  many  other  chemical  compounds  which 
are  in  constant  demand.  And  desert  though  this 
country  has  been  called,  there  are  yet  great 
stretches  of  land  where  the  most  bounteous  har- 
vests may  be  gathered,  provided  water  is  spread 
over  it.  Strangely  enough,  the  precious  fluid  has 
been  found  in  abundance  where  it  was  supposed 
not  to  be,  and  so  near  the  surface  that  it  is  no  task 
to  raise  and  distribute  it. 


Cajon  Pass 


In  almost  the  geographical  center  of  this  great 
i  domain,  named  San  Bernardino  County,  is  Ludlow, 
a  station  on  the  Santa  Fe  main  line  and  the  south- 
ern terminus  of  the  Tonopah  &  Tidewater  Rail- 
road. This  new  artery  of  commerce  was  opened 
for  business  in  1907.  It  was  built  primarily  to 
supersede  the  "  20- mule  -  team  borax"  wagons 
which  formerly  hauled  this  widely  used  product  from 
the  depths  of  Death  Valley  to  railway  transporta- 
tion more  than  a  hundred  miles  away.  A  branch 
hne  to  the  Lila  C  mine  afifords  easy  handling  of 
the  crystallized  Colmanite  or.  borax-bearing  ores. 

The  ringing  of  the  engine  bell  on  this  first 
through  train  sounded  the  death-knell  of  another 
wide  section  of  the  Great  American  Desert.  It 
was  answered  by  the  huzzahs  of  hardy  pioneers, 
standing  at  the  mouths  of  tunnels  and  shafts  on  a 
hundred  mountain  sides.  They  had  braved  the 
hardships  of  remote  regions  to  find  and  develop 
the  great  ore  bodies  awaiting  their  coming.  Now 
their  patience  was  justified,  for  the  train  meant  a 
market  for  their  ores  and  easy  acquisition  of  life's 
comforts.  The  prospector  now  no  longer  fears 
that  his  pack-train  will  sufifer  thirst  while  crossing 
from  one  mountain  range  to  another.  A  short 
detour  brings  him  to  a  plenteous  supply  of  water, 
developed  by  the  railroad  builders. 

The  opening  of  the  Tonopah  &  Tidewater  also 
made  accessible  that  weird  rift  in  earth's  surface 
between  the  Funeral  Range  and  the  Panamints, 
known  as  Death  Valley.     The  floor  of  this  mighty 


99 


% 


i«iijff3ii^^^^^ 


^■■y>^^      _^- 


g^^v^^V^-    '^^i^'  Cam  del  Daitrto. 


sink  is  nearly  300  feet  below  scalevel  and  is  covered 
in  greater  part  by  an  incrustation  of  alkali  com- 
pounds, vvhich  resemble,  at  a  distance,  a  blanket 
of  snow.  In  this  one-time  caldron  nature's  forces 
are  everywhere  apparent.  It  is  a  most  interesting 
spot  for  the  student,  the  scientist  and  the  treasure- 
hunter,  while  the  health-seeker,  for  eight  months 
of  the  year,  can  there  rejuvenate  his  worn  nerves 
and  enjoy  a  perfect  climate. 

The  Tonopah  &  Tidewater  is  the  shortest  and 
quickest  route  to  Rhyolite,  Bullfrog,  Beatty, 
Springdale,  Bonnie  Claire,  Goldfield,  Tonopah  and 
other  bonanza  mining  camps  of  Nevada,  whose 
rich  ores  have  caused  the  building  of  thriving 
cities  where  a  few  years  ago  were  only  bare  hill- 
sides and  sage-brush-covered  plains.  These  offer 
to  men  of  affairs  golden  opportunities  for  invest- 
ment and  large  returns,  while  the  mere  curiosity- 
seeker  will  there  find  much  that  is  unique  and 
educating. 

At  Barstow,  junction  of  the  San  Francisco  and 
Southern  California  Lines  of  the  Santa  Fe,  is  the 
newest  of  the  station  hotels  managed  by  Fred  Harvey. 
Architecturally  it  is  of  the  Spanish  Renaissance, 
tapestry  brick  with  red  tile  roof,  and  appropriately 
named  Casa  del  Desierto,  the  "house  of  the  desert." 

SOUTH  OF  CAJON   PASS. 

The  Santa  Ana  and  San  Gabriel  Valleys  of 
Southern  California  are  entered  through  the  Cajon 
Pass.     It  is  the  loveliest  imaginable  scene,  a  gently 


billowing  mountain  flank  densely  set  with  thickets 
of  manzanita,  gleaming  through  whose  glossy  foliage 
iinl  red  stems  the  pale  earth  rises  here  and  there  in 
:raceful  dunes  of  white,  iinflecked  by  grass  or  shrub, 
overhung  by  parallel-terraced  ridges  of  the  San  Ber- 
nardino Mountains,  that  pale  in  turn  to  a  topmost 
height  far  in  the  blue  Italian  sky.  Entirely  want- 
ing in  the  austerity  that  characterizes  the  grander 
mountains  of  loftier  altitudes,  it  takes  you  from  the 
keeping  of  plateau  and  desert,  and  by  seductive 
windings  leads  you  down  to  the  garden  of  California. 
In  the  descent  from  the  summit  (altitude  3,819  feet) 
a  drop  of  2,700  feet  is  made  in  twenty-five  miles. 
On  reaching  San  Bernardino,  typical  scenes  at  once 
appear.  On  either  hand  are  seen  orchards  of  the 
peach,  apricot,  prune,  olive,  fig,  almond,  walnut,  and 
that  always  eagerly  anticipated  one  of  the  orange. 
You  will  not,  however,  find  this  whole  land  a 
jungle  of  orange  and  palm  trees,  parted  only  by  thick 
banks  of  flowers.  The  world  is  wide,  even  in 
California,  or,  one  might  better  say,  particularly  in 
California,  where  over  an  area  averaging  150  miles 
wide  and  i,ooo  miles  long  is  scattered  a  population 
slightly  in  excess  of  that  of  Chicago.  It  is  true 
that  in  many  places  along  3'our  route  you  may 
almost  pluck  oranges  by  reaching  from  the  car 
window  in  passing  ;  but  the  celebrated  products  of 
California  lie  in  restricted  areas  of  cultivation,  which 
you  are  expected  to  visit ;  and  herein  lies  much  of 
the  Californian's  pride,  that  there  still  remains  so 
much   of  opportunity  for  all.     There  is  everything 


in  California  that  has  been  credited  to  it,  but  what 
proves  not  uncommonly  a  surprise  is  the  relatively 
smalJ  area  of  improved  land  and  the  consequent 
frequency  of  unfructed  intervals.  Only  a  moment's 
reflection  is  needed  to  perceive  that  the  case  could 
not  be  otherwise.  As  for  flowers,  even  here  they 
are  not  eternal,  except  in  the  thousands  of  watered 
gardens.  In  the  dry  summer  season  the  hills  turn 
brown  and  sleep.  Only  when  the  winter  rains  have 
slaked  the  parched  earth  do  the  grass  and  flowers 
awake,  and  then  for  a  few  months  there  is  enough 
of  bloom  and  fragrance  to  satisfy  the  most  exuber- 
ant fancy. 

Now  past  pretty  horticultural  communities, 
flanked  by  the  Sierra  Madre,  the  way  leads  quickly 
from  San  Bernardino  to  Pasadena  and  Los  Angeles. 

Southw-ard  from  the  last-named  city  you  pass 
through  a  fruitful  region,  and  within  a  stone's  throw 
of  the  impressive  mission-ruins  of  Capistrano,  to  a 
shore  where  the  long  waves  of  the  Pacific  break 
upon  gleaming  white  sands  and  the  air  is  of  the 
sea.  Blue  as  the  sky  is  the  Pacific,  paling  in  the 
shallows  toward  land,  and  flecked  with  bright  or 
somber  cloud  reflections  and  smurring  ripples  of  the 
breeze.  It  is  not  only  the  westerly  bound  of  the 
North  American  continent,  it  is  the  South  Seas  of 
old  adventure,  where  many  a  hulk  of  once  treasure- 
laden  galleons  lies  fathoms  deep  among  the  queer 
denizens  of  the  sea  who  repeat  wild  legends  of 
naughty  buccaneers.  There  is  challenge  to  the 
imagination   in   the   very  tracklessness   of  the   sea. 

I02 


ri    1 


On  the  wrinkled  face  of  earth  you  may  read  earth's 
story.  She  has  laid  things  to  heart.  She  broods 
on  memories.  But  the  sea  denies  the  past ;  it  is  as 
heedless  of  events  that  were  as  the  air  is  of  the 
path  where  yesterday  a  butterfly  was  winging.  Its 
incontinent  expanse  is  alluring  to  the  fancy,  and 
this  sunset  sea  even  more  than  the  tempestuous 
ocean  that  beats  upon  our  eastern  shores,  for  it  is 
so  lately  become  our  possession  it  seems  still  a 
foreign  thing,  strewn  with  almost  as  many  wrecks 
of  Spanish  hopes  as  of  galleons;  and  into  its  broad 
bosom  the  sun  sinks  to  rise  upon  quaint  anti- 
podean peoples,  bej'^ond  a  thousand  mysterious 
inhabited  islands  in  the  swirls  of  the  equatorial 
currents. 

Next,  swinging  inland  to  find  the  pass  of  the 
last  intervening  hills,  you  make  a  final  descent  to 
the  water's  edge,  and  come  to  San  Diego,  that 
city  of  Mediterranean  atmosphere  and  color,  ter- 
raced along  the  rim  of  a  sheltered  bay  of  surpassing 
beauty.  Guarding  the  mouth  of  the  harbor  lies 
the  long  crescent  peninsula  of  Coronado,  the  pale 
fagades  of  whose  mammoth  hotel  flash  through 
tropical  vegetation  across  the  blue  intervening  waters. 

OF  CLIMATE. 

Here  the  sun  habitually  shines.  Near  the  coast 
flows  the  broad,  equable  Japanese  ocean-current, 
from  which  a  tempered  breeze  sweeps  overland 
every  morning,  every  night  to  return  from  the  cool 
mountain-tops.  Between  the  first  of  May  and 
103 


II 


the  last  of  October  rain  almost  never  falls.  By  the 
end  of  June  the  earth  has  evaporated  most  of  its 
surface  moisture,  and  vegetation  unsustained  by 
artificial  watering  begins  to  languish.  The  mid- 
day temperature  now  rises,  but  the  same  breeze 
swings  between  ocean  and  mountain,  and  night 
and  ear'y  morning  are  no  less  invigorating. 

With    November    the    first    showers    generally 
begin,  followed  by  an  occasional  heavy  downpour, 
and  Northern  pastures  now  whiten   under  falling 
snow  hardly  faster  than  do  these  sere   hills  turn 
beryl-green.     The    rainy  season    is    so  called  not 
because  it  is  characterized  by  continuous  rainfall, 
but  to  distinguish  it  from  that  portion  of  the  year 
in  which  rain  can  not  be  looked  for.     Bright  days 
are  still  the  rule,  and  showery  days   are  marked  by  |c 
transcendent   beauties   of   earth   and  sky,    fleeting 
wonders  of  form  and  color.    Let  the  morning  open    ij 
with  a  murky  zenith,  dark  tumbled  cloud-masses,    \ 
dropping  showers.   As  the  invisible  sun  mounts,  he 
peeps  through  a  rift  to  see  that  his  world  is  safe, 
then  vanishes.    The  sky  has  an  unrelenting  look,    j 

The  dim,  guardian  mountains  are  obscured,  Sud-  ^ 
denly,  far  to  the  left,  a  rift  breaks  dazzling  white, 
just  short  of  where  the  rain  is  falling  on  the  hills 
in  a  long  bending  column,  and  at  one  side  a  broad 
patch  pales  into  mottled  gray ;  and  below  the  rift  a 
light  mist  is  seen  floating  on  the  flank  of  a  moun- 
tam  that  shoots  into  sharp  relief  against  a  vapor- 
wall  of  slate.  At  the  mountain's  foot  a  whole 
hillside  shows  in  warm  brown  tint,  its  right  edge 
104 


merged  in  a  low  flat  cloud  of  silver,  born,  you 
could  aver,  on  the  instant,  from  which  the  trun- 
>  atcd  base  of  a  second  mountain  depends,  blue  as 
indigo.  The  face  of  earth,  washed  newl}'',  is  a 
patchwork  of  somber  and  gaudy  transparent  colors 
—  yellows,  greens,  sepias,  graj's.  One's  range  and 
clearness  of  vision  are  quickly  expanded,  as  when  a 
telescope  is  fitted  to  the  eye.  Now  begins  a  won- 
derful shifting  of  light  and  shadow,  peeps  through 
a  curtain  that  veils  unbearable  splendors  of  upper 
sky  ;  gradual  dissolutions  of  cloud  into  curls  and 
twists  and  splashes,  with  filling  of  blue  between. 
Again  the  sun  appears,  at  first  with  a  pale  bur- 
nished light,  flashing  and  fading  irresolutely  until 
at  length  it  flames  out  with  summer  ardor.  The 
clouds  break  into  still  more  curious  forms,  into  pic- 
tures and  images  of  quaint  device,  and  outside  a 
wide  circle  of  brilliant  sunlight  all  the  hills  are  in 
purple  shadow,  fading  into  steel-blue,  and  about 
their  crests  cling  wisps  of  many-colored  fleece. 
Here  and  there  a  distant  peak  is  blackly  hooded, 
or  gleams  subtly  behind  an  intervening  shower  —  a 


Tehachapi  Loop 


thin  transparent  wash  of  smoky  hue.  The  veil 
quickly  dissipates,  and  at  the  same  instant  the  peak 
is  robbed  of  its  sunh'ght  by  billows  of  vapor  that 
marshal  in  appalling  magnificence.  Then  the  rain- 
mist  advances  and  hides  the  whole  from  view.  A 
strip  of  green  next  flashes  on  the  sight,  a  distant 
field  lighted  by  the  sun,  but  lying  unaccountably 
beneath  a  cloud  of  black.  Beyond,  the  broad  foot 
of  a  rainbow  winks  and  disappears.  Among  all  the 
hilltops  rain  next  begins  to  fall  like  amber  smoke, 
so  thin  is  the  veil  that  shields  them  from  the  sun. 

Then  the  sun  abruptly  ceases  to  shine,  the  whole 
heavens  are  overcast,  and  between  the  fine  fast-fall- 
ing drops  the  ground  gleams  wet  in  cool  gray  light. 
By  noon  the  sun  again  is  shining  clear,  although 
in  occasional  canyons  there  is  night  and  deluge, 
and  at  the  close  of  a  bright  afternoon  the  farthest, 
loftiest  peak  has  a  white  cloud  wreath  around  it, 
as  symmetrical  as  a  smoke-ring  breathed  from  the 
lips  of  a  senorita ;  and  out  of  the  middle  of  it  rises 
the  fragment  of  a  rainbow  —  a  cockade  on  a  mist- 
laureled  Matterhorn.  Then  the  sun  drops,  and 
the  day  is  done. 

That  is  the  way  it  rains  in  California,  and  between 
such  days  are  unclouded  intervals  of  considerable 
duration.  They  call  this  season  winter.  The 
temperature  is  so  finely  balanced  one  does  not 
easily  decide  whether  to  walk  upon  the  sunny  or 
the  shady  side  of  the  street.  It  is  cool,  not  cold  — 
not  bracing  in  the  ordinary  sense,  but  just  the 
proper  temperature  for  continuous  out-of-door  life. 
107 


::i^:^tiii2^^ -:  J* 


June  does  not  define  it,  nor  September.  It  has  no 
synonym.  But  if  you  cared  to  add  one  more  to  the 
many  unsuccessful  attempts  to  define  it  in  a  phrase, 
you  might  term  it  constant  delicious  weather ;  to- 
day, to-morrow,  and  indefinitely  in  the  future, 
morally  certain  to  be  very  much  as  you  would  have 
it  if  you  were  to  create  an  air  and  a  sky  exactly  to 
suit  his  or  her  majesty  yourself.  But  even  here 
man  is  a  clothes-wearing  animal.  There  is  a  cool- 
ness pervading  the  most  brilliant  sunshine.  Remem- 
bering this,  the  most  apprehensive  person  will  soon 
discover  that  there  is  no  menace  in  the  dry,  pure, 
and  gently  invigorating  air  of  the  Southern  Cali- 
fornia winter.  It  wins  the  invalid  to  health  by 
enticing  him  to  remain  out  of  doors. 

Ranging  from  warm  sea-level  to  peaks  of  frigid 
inclemency,  this  varied  state  offers  many  climatic 
gradations,  whose  contrasts  are  nearly  always  in 
view.  In  winter  you  may  sit  upon  almost  any 
veranda  in  Southern  California  and  lift  your  eyes 
from  the  brilliant  green  of  ornamental  trees  and 
shrubs,  from  orchards  where  fruits  ripen  in  heavy 
clusters,  and  from  the  variegated  bloom  of  gar- 
dens, to  ragged  horizon-lines  buried  deep  in  snow. 
There  above  is  a  frozen  waste  and  Alpine  terror. 
Here  below  is  summer,  shorn  of  summer  languor. 
And  between  may  be  found  any  modification  that 
could  reasonably  be  sought,  each  steadfast  in  its 
own  characteristics. 

The  smallest  of  these  communities  is  great  in 
content.  Literally  couched  beneath  his  own  vine 
loS 


■  and  fig-tree,  plucking  from  friendly  boughs  delicious 
fruits,  finding  in  the  multifarious  products  of  the 
soil  nearly  everything  needful  in  domestic  economy, 
and  free  from  most  of  the  ills  that  flesh  was  thought 
to  be  heir  to,  what  wonder  that  the  Californian 
'■  envies  no  man,  nor  ever  looks  wistfully  over  the 
'  Sierra's  crest  toward  the  crowded  cities  and  preca- 
rious farming  regions  of  the  East?  An  uplifting 
environment  for  a  home,  truly,  fit  to  breed  a  race 
worthy  of  the  noblest  empire  among  the  States. 

There  is  work  to  be  done,  in  the  house  and  the 
field,  but  in  such  an  air  and  scene  it  is  as  near  a 
transfiguration  of  labor  as  can  well  be  imagined. 
Here  it  is  indeed  a  poor  boy  or  girl  who  has  not  a 
pony  on  which  to  scamper  about,  or  lacks  liberty 
for  such  enjoyment.  And  every  year  there  comes 
a  period  of  holiday,  an  interval  when  there  is  no 
planting  or  harvesting  to  be  done,  no  picking  or 
drying  or  packing  of  fruit,  a  recuperating  spell  of 
nature,  when  the  weather  is  just  as  glorious  as  ever, 
and  the  mountains  and  ocean  beckon  seductively  to 
the  poet  that  is  in  the  heart  of  every  unharassed 
man  and  woman  and  child.  Then  for  weeks  the 
canyons  are  dotted  with  tents,  where  the  mountain- 
torrents  foam  and  spreading  sycamores  are  festooned 
with  mistletoe  ;  and  the  trout  of  the  stream  and  the 
game  of  the  forest  have  their  solstice  of  woe.     Or, 


^0-y  I 


j:^f.n/<^" 


on  the  rim  of  the  sea,  thousands  of  merry  hearts, 
both  young  and  old,  congregate  and  hold  high  car- 
nival. 

When  the  campers  return  to  shop  and  field 
it  is  not  by  reason  of  any  inclemency  of  weather, 
but  because  their  term  of  holiday  has  expired. 
Then  come  the  tourists,  and  pale  fugitives  from 
the  butfets  of  Boreas,  to  wander  happily  over  hill- 
side and  shore  in  a  land  unvexed  by  the  tyranny  of 
the  seasons. 

The  most  seductive  of  lands,  and  the  most  tena- 
cious in  its  hold  upon  you.  You  have  done  but 
little,  and  a  day  has  fled;  have  idled,  walked,  rid- 
den, sailed  a  little,  have  seen  two  or  three  of  the 
thousand  things  to  be  seen,  and  a  week,  a  month, 
is  gone.  You  could  grieve  that  such  golden  bur- 
denless  hours  should  ever  go  into  the  past,  did  they 
not  flow  from  an  inexhaustible  fount.  For  to  be 
out  all  day  in  the  careless  freedom  of  perfect 
weather ;  to  ramble  over  ruins  of  a  former  occupa- 


I 


tion;  to  wander  through  gardens  and  orchards;  to 
fish,  to  shoot,  to  gather  flowers  from  the  blossom- 
ing hill-slopes;  to  explore  a  hundred  fascinating 
retreats  of  mountain  and  shore;  to  lounge  on  the 
sands  by  the  surf  until  the  sun  drops  into  the  sea; 
all  this  is  permitted  by  the  Southern  California 
winter. 

SAN  DIEGO  AND  VICINITY. 

Fringing  a  bay  that  glows  like  a  golden  mirror 
below  its  purple  rim,  San  Diego  (population  85,000) 
stands  upon  a  slope  that  rises  from  the  water  to 
the  summit  of  a  broad  mesa.  In  front  the  bold 
promontory  of  Point  Loma  juts  into  the  sea,  over- 
lapping the  low,  slender  peninsular  of  Coronado, 
and  between  them  lies  the  entrance  to  this 
most  beautiful  of  harbors.  One  may  be  happy  in 
San  Diego  and  do  nothing.  Its  soft,  sensuous 
beauty  and  caressing  air  create  in  the  breast  a  new 
sense  of  the  joy  of  mere  existence.  But  there  is, 
besides,  abundant  material  for  the  sight-seer.  Here, 
with  many,  begins  the  first  acquaintance  with  the 
growing  orange  and  lemon.  Orchards  are  on  every 
hand.  Paradise  Valley,  the  Valley  of  the  Sweet- 
water, where  may  be  seen  the  great  irrigating  fount 
of  so  many  farms,  and  Mission  Valley,  where  the 
San  Diego  River  flows  and  the  dismantled  ruin  of 


I'niversal  Brotherhood 
Buildings, 
Point  Loma 


iS^ 


the  oldest  of  California's  missions,  elbowed  by  a 
modern  Indian  school,  watches  over  its  ancient  but 
still  vigorous  trees  —  afiford  the  best  examples  of 
those  growing  fruits  in  the  immediate  neighborhood. 

El  Cajon  Valley  has  approximately  13,000  acres. 
It  is  reached  by  boulevards  and  by  the  San  Diego, 
Cuyamaca  and  Eastern  Railroad.  The  soil  is  a 
decomposed  granite.  During  the  season  of  1911 
more  than  1700  carloads  of  agricultural  products 
were  shipped  from  this  valley,  which  not  only  is 
lovely  to  the  eye,  but  tempting  to  the  fruit-grower 
and  rancher. 

Nuvida  Springs,  twelve  miles  from  San  Diego,  in 
the  mountains  at  an  altitude  of  some  500  feet,  is 
a  resort  which  is  coming  into  prominence  on  ac- 
count of  the  curative  mineral  water,  beauty  of 
surroundings,  and  excellent  accommodations  for 
visitors. 

National  City,  four  miles  southward,  has  exten- 
sive olive  orchards  and  is  destined  to  become  com- 
mercially important  as  part  of  the  development 
along  the  water  front  of  San  Diego  Bay.  It  has 
thirty-five  miles  of  evergreen-shaded  residence 
streets,  substantial  business  blocks,  and  is  the  ter- 
minal of  the  Santa  Fe  Lines. 

Fifteen  miles  below  San  Diego  is  the  quaint 
Mexican  village  of  Tia  Juana,  quite  un-American 
with  its  large  ring  for  bull  fights,  its  curio  shops 
and  motley  groups  of  picturesquely  clad  natives. 

On  the  west  side  of  Point  Loma  is  Ocean  Beach, 
reached  by  electric  cars  from  San  Diego. 

8  113 


Nine  miles  down  the  Bay,  with  daily  ferry  service, 
is  South  San  Diego.  One  mile  farther  west,  on 
the  Pacific  Ocean,  reached  by  motor-car  service 
from  South  San  Diego  dock,  is  Imperial  Beach, 
noted  for  its  long  stretch  of  white  sand  and  shallow 
water;  here  a  new  hotel  has  been  built.  Jamacha, 
Dehesa,  Jamul,  Campo,  Potrero  and  Encinitas  are 
other  charming  little  home  towns. 

San  Diego  now  has  adequate  hotel  accommoda- 
tions. The  U.  S.  Grant  Hotel,  in  the  heart  of  the 
business  district,  fronting  on  the  old  Plaza,  is  the 
most  important  recent  addition.  Built  and  equipped 
at  a  cost  approaching  two  million  dollars,  it  equals 
the  finest  of  Los  Angeles  inns  in  service.  This 
pride  of  San  Diego  is  constructed  of  reinforced 
concrete  and  steel,  has  500  guest  rooms,  is  fire- 
proof and  open  all  the  year.  Hotel  Robinson  is 
pleasantly  situated  on  a  breezy  height  near  the 
down-town  district,  with  a  wide  outlook  across 
the  blue  bay.  It  has  two  hundred  guest  rooms,  a 
roof  garden,  palm  court  and  sun  parlor.  Many 
other  smaller  hotels  lately  have  been  completed  or 
are  in  course  of  construction. 

The  San  Diego  Tours  Company  offers  numer- 
ous trips  in  and  around  San  Diego.  Their  large 
autos  take  one  quickly  out  over  the  new  boule- 
vard to  Point  Loma,  to  the  old  lighthouse  and 
Ocean  Beach.  Other  trips  are  made  by  this 
company's  service  to  La  Jolla,  "old  town"  and  the 
natural  caves  ;  to  Grossmont  and  Lakeside ;  to 
the  Coronado  Islands,  with  their  marine  gardens 
114 


^x'Oi. 


Hotel  Robinson, 

San  Diego 


and  seal  rookeries  ;  to  Coronado ;  and  to  Tia 
Juana,  in  old  Mexico. 

On  the  crest  of  Point  Loma  a  group  of  build- 
ings stands  out  against  the  azure  sky.  This  is  the 
settlement  of  the  Universal  Brotherhood,  a  branch 
of  the  Theosophical  Society,  presided  over  by  Mrs. 
Catharine  Tingley.  A  large  amount  of  money 
already  has  been  expended  on  the  buildings  and 
grounds. 

The  diverse  allurements  of  mountain  and  valley, 
and  northward-stretching  shore  of  alternating  beach 
and  high  commanding  blufif,  are  innumerable. 
One  marvelous  bit  of  coast,  thirteen  miles  away, 
and  easily  reached  by  railway  or  carriage  drive,  is 
called  La  Jolla  Park.  Here  a  plateau  overlooks 
the  open  sea  from  a  bluf^  that  tumbles  precipitously 
to  a  narrow  strip  of  sand. 

The  face  of  the  clifif  for  a  distanceof  several  miles 
has  been  sculptured  by  the  waves  into  most  curious 
forms.  Loosened  fragments  have  worn  deep 
symmetrical  wells,  or  pot-holes,  to  which  the 
somewhat  inadequate  Spanish-Indian  name  of 
the  place  is  due.  Some  of  the  cavities  are 
mere  pockets  lined  with  mussels  and  minute  weeds 
with  calcareous  leaves.  Others  are  commodious, 
secluded  apartments,  quite  commonly  used  as  dress- 
ing-rooms by  bathers.  The  real  caverns  can  be 
entered    dryshod    only  at    lowest   tide.     The   cliff 


115 


U.  S.  Grant  Hotel, 
San  Diego 


■^  |jnt|j- 


Coronado  Tciii  City 

where  they  he  is  gnawed  into  columns,  arches  and 
aisles,  through  which  one  cave  after  another  may 
be  seen,  dimly  lighted,  dry  and  practicable.  Sev- 
enty-five feet  is  probably  their  utmost  depth.  The 
water  is  as  pellucid  as  a  mountain  spring. 

Sea-anemones  are  thickly  clustered  upon  the 
lower  levels,  their  tinted  petal-filaments  scintillating 
in  the  shallow  element,  or  closed  budlike  while 
waiting  for  the  flood.  Little  crabs  scamper  in  dis- 
orderly procession  through  the  crevices  at  your 
approach,  and  the  ornamental  abalone  is  also 
abundant.  Seaweeds,  trailing  in  and  out  with  the 
movement  of  the  tide,  flame  through  the  trans- 
parent water  in  twenty  shades  of  green,  and  schools 
of  goldfish  flash  in  the  swirling  current.  In  the 
time  of  flowers  this  whole  plateau  is  covered  with 
odorous  bloom. 

Then  there  is  Coronado.  Connected  by  ferry 
with  the  mainland,  Coronado  bears  the  same  rela- 
tion to  San  Diego  that  fashionable  suburbs  bear  to 
many  Eastern  cities,  and  at  the  same  time  afifords 
recreative  pleasures  which  the  inhabitants  of  those 
suburbs  must  go  far  to  seek.  Here  the  business- 
man dwells  in  Elysian  bowers  by  the  sea,  screened 
from  every  reminder  of  business  cares,  yet  barely 
a  mile  distant  from  the  office.  Locking  up  in 
his  desk  at  evening  all  the  prosaic  details  of  bank 
or  factory,  of  lailroad  rates,  of  the  price  of  stocks 


The  Japanese  Garden, 

Coronado 


and  real  estate  and  wares,  in  twenty  minutes  he  is  at 
home  on  what  is  in  effect  a  South  Sea  Island, 
where  brant  and  curlew  and  pelican  fly,  and  not 
all  the  myriad  dwellings  and  the  pomp  of  their 
one  architectural  splendor  can  disturb  the  air  of 
perfect  restfulness  and  sweet  rusticity.  From  the 
low  ridge  of  the  narrow  peninsula  may  be  seen, 
upon  the  one  hand,  a  wide-sweeping  mountainous 
arc,  dipping  to  the  pretty  city  that  borders  the  bay. 
Upon  the  other,  the  unobstructed  ocean  rolls.  On 
the  ocean  side,  just  beyond  reach  of  the  waves, 
stands  the  hotel  whose  magnificence  has  given  it 
leading  rank  among  the  famous  hostelries  of  the 
world . 

It  is  built  around  a  quadrangular  court,  or 
patio  —  a  dense  garden  of  rare  shrubs  and  flowering 
plants  more  than  an  acre  in  extent.  Upon  this 
patio  many  sleeping-rooms  open  by  way  of  the  cir- 
cumjacent balcony,  besides  fronting  upon  ocean 
and  bay,  and  a  glass-covered  veranda,  extending 
nearly  the  entire  length  of  the  western  frontage, 
looks  over  the  sea  toward  the  peaks  of  the  distant 
Coronado  Islands.  On  the  north  lies  Point  Loma 
and  the  harbor  entrance,  on  the  east  San  Diego  Bay 
and  city,  and  on  the  south  Glorieta  Bay  and  the 
mountains  of  Mexico,  beyond  a  broad  half-circle  of 
lawn  dotted  with  semi-tropical  trees  and  bright 
beds  of  flowers,  and  bordered  by  hedges  of  cypress. 

Here  the  fisherman  has  choice  of  surf  or  billow, 
or  the  still  surface  of  sheltered  waters;  of  sailboat, 
skiff  or  iron  pier.     The   gunner   finds   no   lack  of 

119 


sea-fowl,  quail  or  rabbits.  The  bather  may  choose 
between  surf  and  huge  tanks  of  salt  water, 
roofed  with  glass,  fringed  with  flowers  and  fitted 
with  devices  to  enhance  his  sport.  The  sight- 
seer is  provided  with  a  score  of  special  local  attrac- 
tions, and  all  the  resources  of  the  mainland  are  at 
elbow.  These  diversions  are  the  advantage  of  geo- 
graphical location,  independent  of  the  social  recre- 
ations- one  naturally  finds  in  fashionable  resorts,  at 
hotels  liberally  managed  and  frequented  by  represen- 
tatives of  the  leisure  class. 

In  addition  to  the  manifold  attractions  of  Coro- 
nado  is  the  summer  tent  city  on  the  cool  beach, 
where  neatly  furnished  cloth  houses  may  be  rented 
by  those  who  desire  to  get  into  closer  touch  with 
nature  than  they  would  in  a  modern  hotel.  Res- 
taurants, stores  and  other  facilities  are  provided  for 
the  comfort  of  those  who  camp  here,  and  in  sea- 
son music  and  special  entertainment  are  added  to 
the  natural  attractions. 

The  climate  of  the  coast  is  necessarily  distin- 
guished from  that  of  the  interior  by  greater  humid- 
ity, and  the  percentage  of  invisible  moisture  in 
the  air,  however  small,  must  infallibly  be  greater 
at  Coronado  than  upon  the  heights  of  San  Diego, 
and  greater  in  San  Diego  than  at  points  farther 
removed  from  the  sea.  This  is  the  clew  to  the 
only  flaw  in  the  otherwise  perfect  coast  climate, 
and  it  is  a  flaw  only  to  supersensitive  persons, 
invalids  of  a  certain  class.  The  consumptive  too 
often    delays  taking   advantage  of    the  benefits  of 


climatic  change  until  he  has  reached  a  point 
when  nicest  discrimination  has  become  necessary. 
The  purest,  driest  and  most  rarefied  air  compatible 
with  the  complications  of  disease  is  his  remedy, 
if  remedy  exist  for  him.  And  the  driest  and  most 
rarefied  air  is  not  to  be  looked  for  by  the  sea. 
Yet  the  difference  is  not  great  enough  to  be 
brusquely  prohibitory. 

No  one  need  fear  to  go  to  the  coast,  and  usually 
a  short  stay  will  determine  whether  or  no  the 
relief  that  is  sought  can  there  be  found  ;  while  for 
many  derangements  it  is  preferable  to  the  interior. 
For  him  who  is  not  in  precarious  condition  the 
foregoing  observations  have  no  significance.  He  will 
find  the  climate  of  all  Southern  California  a  mere 
gradation  of  glory.  But  perhaps  around  San  Diego, 
and  at  one  or  two  other  coast  points,  there  will 
seem  to  be   a  spirit  even  gentler  than  that  which 


rules  the  hills. 


The  Arches,  Capistrano 


PANAMA-CALIFORNIA  EXPOSITION 

In  1915  an  international  exposition,  commemora- 
tive of  the  completion  of  the  Panama  Canal,  will  be 
held  at  Balboa  Park,  San  Diego,  beginning  New 
Year's  Day  and  lasting  the  entire  year.  Although 
international  in  scope,  it  wisely  has  been  decided 
that  this  show-window  of  the  Southwest  shall  be 
based  upon  the  romantic  history  of  that  period, 
reaching  back  to  within  half  a  century  of  the  landing 
of  Columbus  in  the  Western  world — the  era  of  the 
old  California  missions. 

The  deeds  of  the  daring  Spanish  conquistadors 
who  sailed  seeking  the  lands  of  the  Amazons,  or 
who  followed  Coronado  in  quest  of  the  fabled  cities 
of  Cibola,  or  who  perished  on  the  desert  track  down 
which  they  sought  the  golden  myth  of  Quivira,  were 
unique  among  westward-faring  people. 

Likewise  unique  was  the  faith  of  the  brown-robed 
padres,  the  daring  enterprise  of  lonely  pioneers, 
braving  trackless  wastes,  and  the  world-wide  trek 
of  treasure-hunters  to  California.  Here,  on  the 
long  trail  of  El  Camino  Real,  would  seem  an  appro- 
priate place  to  commemorate  those  who  trafficked 


Exposition  Palaces,  from  Bridge  of  Cabrillo. 


hither  and  thither,  "from  Darien  to  Mendocino," 
from  Vera  Cruz  to  Mo-nterey. 

Only  those  countries  out  of  which  the  history  of 
San  Diego  came  are  invited  to  participate.  The 
archaeology  and  industries  of  the  Southwest  are  to 
be  dominant  features  of  the  exposition.  These  will 
be  supplemented  by  similar  exhibits  of  all  the  tribes 
and  peoples  of  Mexico,  Central  America  and  South 
America. 

Gathered  within  the  allotted  space  will  be  every- 
thing artistic,  useful  and  extraordinary  which  may  be 
found  in  southwest  U.  S.  A.  and  the  Latin  Repub- 
lics. Every  phase  of  industry  and  commerce  will  be 
exhibited,  both  in  processes  and  finished  product. 

Yet  nothing  will  be  omitted  that  can  assist  the 
homeseeker  or  investor.  In  Balboa  Park  will  be 
presented  typical  samples  of  the  productive  capacity 
of  all  Southwestern  sections,  from  experimental 
stages  to  commercial  output  ready  for  world  markets. 

The  setting  of  this  exhibit  also  will  be  unusual. 
It  will  be  an  "old-mission"  city,  upon  which  has 
been  superimposed  the  ornate  architecture  of  the 
Spanish-Colonial  period,  adopted  from  the  cathe- 
drals, palaces  and  mural  adornment  of  Mexican 
and  Spanish-American  states,  designed  and  erected 
by  native  builders  who  are  guided  in  their  art  by 
the  composite  Moorish  and  Byzantine  architecture 
introduced  after  the  Conquest.  There  will  be  gates 
and  corridors — patios,  arches,  tiled  roofs  and  vesti- 


bules — after  the  pattern  of  Puebla,  Oaxaca,  Guada- 
lajara and  Mexico  City.  Yet  this  style  of  architec- 
ture will  he  a  distinctive  California  phase  of  the  art. 

The  International  Panama-California  Exposition 
will  be  educational  along  useful  lines.  Backed  by 
San  Diego,  the  State  of  California  and  the  United 
States  Government,  this  sister  of  the  World's  Fair 
to  be  held  the  same  year  in  San  Francisco  ought  to 
be  a  great  success. 

Ground  was  first  broken  in  July,  1911,  To-day 
four  big  buildings  are  completed,  and  four  more  are 
nearly  done.  Of  the  other  seven,  all  are  underway 
except  one.  The  great  concrete  bridge.  La  Puente 
Cabrillo,  spanning  a  deep  arroyo,  and  leading  into 
the  heart  of  the  magic  exposition  city  from  the  center 
of  San  Diego,  is  about  one-third  finished.  This  giant 
causeway  —  900  feet  long  and  130  feet  high  —  is  a 
spectacular  afifair  and  will  be  a  permanent  structure. 

Another  unique  feature  is  the  exposition  nursery, 
with  its  thirty-five  acres  of  propagating  beds,  and 
one  hundred  acres  of  growing  beds,  now  comprising 
seven  million  plants.  Three  thousand  palms  have 
been  transplanted  for  beautifying  the  avenues.  The 
fence  around  the  grounds  will  be  of  wire  netting 
hidden  by  flowering  vines. 

The  Santa  Fe  will  make  a  unique  exhibit  of  the 
picturesque  Indian  life  along  its  line. 


-  «Mrti(iiiiiijii(iiiii^*''''''f'»'wWi!ifStf"!!'*:'^^^ 


..^M 


AliisioJi  San  Liih  Key. 


vl^'^ 


V..''      ^,,"''7ni      i'.'t^      •■    *^'  '■)'«.' 

■  1  '  O-..         1..J. 


San  Antnni!)  de  Padua 


CAPISTRANO. 

A  tiny  quaint  village  in  a  fertile  valley  that 
slopes  from  a  mountain  wall  to  the  sea,  unkempt 
and  mongrel,  a  jumble  of  adobe  ruins,  white- 
washed hovels  and  low  semi-modern  structures, 
straggling  like  a  moraine  from  the  massive  ruin  of 
the  Mission  San  Juan  Capistrano.  The  mission 
dominates  the  valley.  Go  where  you  will,  the  eye 
turns  to  this  colossal  fragment,  a  forlorn  but  vital 
thing;  broken,  crushed,  and  yet  undying.  Swarthy 
faces  are  mingled  with  the  pale  Saxon  type,  the 
music  of  the  Spanish  tongue  is  heard  wherever  you 
hear  human  speech,  and  from  behind  the  lattices 
of  the  adobes  come  the  tinkle  of  guitars  and  the 
cadence  of  soft  voices  in  plaintive  rhythm.  The 
sun  makes  black  shadows  by  every  house  and  tree, 
and  sweeps  in  broad  unbroken  light  over  the  undu- 
lating hills  to  hazy  mountain-tops:  ground-squirrels 

125 


scamper  across  the  way,  wild  doves  start  up  with 
whisthng  wings,  and  there  is  song  of  birds  and  cry 
of  barnyard  fowls.  The  essence  of  the  scene  is 
passing  quiet  and  peace.  The  petty  noises  of  the 
village  are  powerless  to  break  the  silence  that 
enwraps  the  noble  ruin  ;  its  dignity  is  as  imperturb- 
able as  that  of  mountain  and  sea.  Never  was 
style  of  architecture  more  spontaneously  in  touch 
with  its  environment  than  that  followed  by  the 
mission  builders.  It  is  rhythm  and  cadence  and 
rhyme.  It  is  perfect  art.  Earthquake  has  rent, 
man  has  despoiled,  time  has  renounced  the  Mission 
San  Juan  Capistrano,  yet  its  pure  nobility  survives, 
indestructible.  The  tower  has  fallen,  the  sanc- 
tuary is  bare  and  weatherbeaten,  the  cloisters  of 
the  quadrangle  are  roofless,  and  the  bones  of  for- 
gotten padres  lie  beneath  the  roots  of  tangled 
shrubbery  ;  but  the  bells  still  hang  in  their  rawhide 
lashings,  and  the  cross  rises  white  against  the  sky. 
A  contemptuous  century  has  rolled  past,  and  the 
whole  ambitious  and  once  promising  dream  of 
monkish  rule  has  long  since  ended,  but  this  slow 
cnunbling  structvire  will  not  have  it  so.  Like  some 
dethroned  and  superannuated  king,  whose  insistent 
claim  to  royal  function  cloaks  him  with  a  certain 
grandeur,  it  sits  in  silent  state  too  venerable  for 
disrespect  and  too  august  for  pity. 


WP 


•  1 


sr  { >  '15 '// 


/r^" 


rail' 


STORY  OF  THE  MISSIONS. 

In  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century  the  Span- 
ish throne,  desiring  to  encourage  colonization  of 
its  territory  of  Upper  California,  then  unpeopled 
save  by  native  Indian  tribes,  entered  into  an  arrange- 
ment with  the  Order  of  St. Francis  by  virtue  of  which 
that  order  undertook  to  establish  missions  in  the 
new  country  which  were  to  be  the  nuclei  of  future 
villages  and  cities,  to  which  Spanish  subjects  were 
encouraged  to  emigrate.  By  the  terms  of  that 
arrangement  the  Franciscans  were  to  possess  the 
mission  properties  and  their  revenues  for  ten  years, 
which  was  deemed  a  sufficient  period  in  which  to 
fairly  establish  the  colonies,  when  the  entire  prop- 
erty was  to  revert  to  the  Spanish  government.  In 
point  of  fact  the  Franciscans  were  left  in  undisputed 
possession  for  more  than  half  a  century. 

The  monk  chosen  to  take  charge  of  the  under- 
taking was  Junipero  Serra,  a  man  of  saintly  piety 
and  energetic  character,  who  in  childhood  desired 
only  that  he  might  be  a  priest,  and  in  maturity 
earnestly  wished  to  be  a  martyr.  Seven  years 
before  the  Declaration  of  the  Independence  of  the 
American  Colonies,  in  the  early  summer  of  1769, 
he  entered  the  bay  of  San  Diego,  227  years  after 
Cabrillo  had  discovered  it  for  Spain  and  167  years 
after  it  had  been  surveyed  and  named  by  Viscaino, 
during  all  which  preceding  time  the  country  had 
lain  fallow.  Within  two  months  Serra  had  founded 
a  mission  near  the  mouth  of   the  San  Diego  River, 


.  ^Si^'^ 


r^'kHx  luJ 


Mission  San  Luis  Rey 


which  five  years  after  was  removed  some  six  miles  up 
the  valley  to  a  point  about  three  miles  distant  from 
the  present  city  of  San  Diego.  From  that  time  one 
mission  after  another  was  founded,  twenty-one  in 
all,  from  San  Diego  along  the  coast  as  far  north  as 
San  Francisco.  The  most  important  of  these  were 
built  of  stone  and  a  hard  burnt  brick  that  even  now 
will  turn  the  edge  of  the  finest  trowel.  The  labor 
of  their  construction  was  appalling.  Brick  had  to 
be  burnt,  stone  quarried  and  dressed,  and  huge 
timbers  for  rafters  brought  on  men's  shoulders  from 
mountain  forests,  sometimes  thirty  miles  distant, 
through    canyons    and    over  trackless  hills. 

The  Indians  performed  most  of  this  labor, 
under  the  direction  of  the  fathers.  These  Indians 
were  tractable,  as  a  rule.  Once,  or  twice  at  most, 
they  rose  against  their  masters,  but  the  policy  of  the 
padres  was  kindness  and  forgiveness,  although  it 
must  be  inferred  that  the  condition  of  the  Indians 
over  whom  they  claimed  spiritual  and  temporal 
authority  was  a  form  of  slavery. 

128 


Pala  Mission 


AVi!7>/"*' 


//llll'liiiT\t«s'  . 


They  were  the  bondsmen  of  the  padres,  whose 
aim  was  to  convert  them  to  Christianity  and  civiHza- 
tion,  and  many  thousands  of  them  were  persuaded 
to  cluster  around  the  missions,  their  daughters 
becoming  neophytes  in  the  convents,  and  the  others 
contributing  their  labor  to  the  erection  of  the  enor- 
mous structures  that  occupied  many  acres  of  ground 
and  to  the  industries  of  agriculture,  cattle-raising, 
and  a  variety  of  manufactures.  There  were,  after 
the  primitive  fashion  of  the  time,  woolen-mills, 
wood-working  and  blacksmith  shops,  and  such 
other  manufactories  as  v/ere  practicable  in  the 
existing  state  of  the  arts,  which  could  be  made 
profitable. 

The  mission  properties  soon  became  enormously 
valuable,  their  yearly  revenues  sometimes  amounting 
to  $2,000,000.  The  exportation  of  hides  was  one 
of  the  most  important  items,  and  merchant  vessels 
from  our  own  Atlantic  seaboard,  from  England  and 
from  Spain,  sailed  to  the  California  coast  for  cargoes 
of  that  commodity.  Dana's  romantic  and  univer- 
sally read  "  Two  Years  Before  the  Mast  "  is  the 
record  of  such  a  voyage.  He  visited  California 
more  than  a  half  a  century  ago,  and  found  its 
quaint  Spanish-Indian  life  full  of  the  picturesque 
and  romantic. 

The  padres  invariably  selected  a  site  favorable  for 
defense,  commanding  views  of  entrancing  scenery, 
on  the  slopes  of  the  most  fertile  valleys,  and  con- 
venient to  the  running  water  which  was  the  safe- 


129 


MISSION  GARDEN,  SANTA  BARBARA. 


"^'i'^ 


'!y^ 


guard  of  agriculture  in  a 
country  of  sparse  ami  i\n-  i.c^i^^' 
certain  rainfall.  The  In- 
dians, less  warlike  in  nature  than  the  roving  {\Z 
tribes  east  of  the  Rockies,  were  almost  uni-  J^'-'i^^-., 
versally  submissive.  If  there  was  ever  an 
Arcadia  it  was  surely  there  and  then. 
Against  the  blue  of  the  sky,  unspotted  by 
a  single  cloud  through  many  months  of  the  year, 
snow-crowned  mountains  rose  in  dazzling  relief, 
while  oranges,  olives,  figs,  dates,  bananas,  and  every 
other  variety  of  temperate  and  sub-tropical  fruit 
which  had  been  introduced  by  the  Spaniards, 
ripened  in  a  sun  whose  ardency  was  tempered  by 
the  dryness  of  the  air  into  an  equability  like  that  of 
June,  while  the  regularly  alternating  breeze  that 
daily  swept  to  and  from  ocean  and  mountain  made 
summer  and  winter  almost  indistinguishable  sea- 
sons, then  as  now,  save  for  the  welcome  rains  that 
characterize  the  latter. 

At  the  foot  of  the  valley,  between  the  mountain 
slopes,  and  never  more  than  a  few  miles  away,  the 
waters  of  the  Pacific  rocked  placidly  in  the  brilliant 
sunlight  or  broke  in  foam  upon  a  broad  beach  of 
sand.  In  such  a  scene  Spaniard  and  Indian  plied 
their  peaceful  vocations,  the  one  in  picturesque 
national  garb,  the  other  almost  innocent  of  cloth- 
ing, while  over  and  around  them  lay  an  atmosphere 
of  sacredness  which  even  to  this  day  clings  to  the 
broken  arches  and  crumbling  walls.  Over  the 
peaceful  valleys    a    veritable    angclus    rang.     The 


Santa  Barbara 

Mission 


i  FRANCI5C0 
5I34NTA  CLARA 


mellow  bells  of  the  mission  churches  summoned 
dusky  hordes  to  ceremonial  devotion.  Want  and 
strife  were  unknown.  Prosperity  and  brotherly 
love  ruled  as  never  before. 

It   is   true   they  had  their   trials.     Earthquakes, 
which  have  been  almost  unknown  in  California  for 
a  quarter  of  a  century,  were  then  not  uncommon, 
and  were  at  times  disastrous.     Rio  de  los  Temblores 
was   the   name   of  a  stream  derived  from  the  fre- 
quency of  earth   rockings   in   the  region   through 
which  it  flowed;  and  in  the  second  decade  of  our 
century  the   dreaded   temblor   upset    the    120-foot 
tower  of  the   Mission   San  Juan   Capistrano   and 
sent  it  crashing  down  through  the  roof  upon  a  con- 
gregation, of  whom  nearly  forty  perished.     Those, 
too,  were   lawless  times  upon  the  main.     Pirates, 
cruising  the  South  Seas  in  quest  of  booty,  hovered 
about   the  California  coast,  and  then  the  mission 
men   stood   to  their  arms,  while  the  women   and 
children    fled   to   the   interior   canyons  with   their 
portable  treasures.     One  buccaneer,  Bouchard, 
repulsed   in   his    attempt    upon    Dolores  and 
Santa  Barbara,  descended  successfully  upon 
^  another   mission    and   dwelt    there  riot- 

ously   for     a     time,    carousing,    and 
destroying    such   valuables    as   he 
could  not  carry  away,  while  the 
entire  population  quaked  in  the 
forest  along  the  Rio  Trabuco. 
This  was  the  same  luckless 
San    Juan     Capistrano,    six 
132 


The  Missions  &  Chapeb 


years  after  the  earthquake  visitation.  Then,  too, 
there  were  bickerings  of  a  pohtical  nature,  and 
struggles  for  place,  after  the  rule  of  Mexico  had 
succeeded  to  that  of  Spain,  but  the  common  people 
troubled  themselves  little  with  such  matters. 

The  end  of  the  Franciscan  dynasty  came  sud- 
denly with  the  secularization  of  the  mission 
property  by  the  Mexican  government  to  replete  the 
exhausted  treasuries  of  Santa  Ana.  Sadly  the 
fathers  forsook  the  scene  of  their  long  labors,  and 
silently  the  Indians  melted  away  into  the  wilderness 
and  the  darkness  of  their  natural  ways,  save  such 
as  had  intermarried  with  the  families  of  Spanish 
soldiers  and  colonists.  The  churches  are  now,  for 
the  most  part,  only  decayed  legacies  and  fragmen- 
tary reminders  of  a  time  whose  like  the  world  will 
never  know  again.  Save  only  three  or  four,  pre- 
served by  reverent  hands,  where  modern  worship- 
ers, denationalized  and  clad  in  American  dress, 
still  kneel  and  recite  their  orisons,  the  venerable 
ruins  are  forsaken  by  all  except  the  tourist  and 
the  antiquarian,  and  their  bells  are  silent  forever. 

But  so  long  as  one  stone  remains  upon  another, 
and  a  single  arch  of  the  missions  still  stands,  an 
atmosphere  will  abide  there,  something  that  does 
not  come  from  mountain,  or  vale,  or  sea,  or  sky ; 
the  spirit  of  consecration,  it  may  be.  But  if  it  is 
only  the  aroma  of  ancient  and  romantic  associations, 
the  suggestion  of  a  peculiar' phase  of  earnest  and 
simple  human  life  and  quaint  environment  that  is 


San  Gabriel  Mission 


forever  past,  the  mission-ruins  must  remain  among 
the  most  interesting  monuments  in  all  our  varied 
land,  and  will  amply  repay  the  inconsiderable  effort 
and  outlay  required  to  enable  the  tourist  to  view 
them.  San  Diego,  the  oldest ;  San  Luis  Rey,  the 
most  poetically  environed  ;  San  Juan  Capistrano,  of 
most  tragic  memory;  San  Gabriel,  the  most  impos- 
ing, and  Santa  Barbara,  the  most  perfectly  pre- 
served, will  suffice  the  casual  sightseer.  These 
also  lie  comparatively  near  together,  and  are  all 
easily  accessible ;  the  first  three  being  located  on  or 
adjacent  to  the  railway  line  between  Los  Angeles 
and  San  Diego,  the  fourth  standing  but  a  few  miles 
from  the  first  named  city,  and  the  fifth  being  almost 
in  the  heart  of  the  famous  resort  that  bears  its  name. 

Reluctantly  will  the  visitor  tear  himself  from  the 
encompassing  charm  of  their  roofless  arches  and 
reminiscent  shadows.  They  are  a  dream  of  the 
Old  World,  indifferent  to  the  sordidness  and  tur- 
bulence of  the  New;  one  of  the  few  things  that 
have  been  spared  by  a  relentless  past,  whose  habit 
is  to  sweep  the  things  of  yesterday  into  oblivion. 
Almost  can  one  hear  the  echoes  of  their  sweet 
bells  ringing  out  to  heathen  thousands  the  sunset 
and  the  dawn. 

The   California  visitor  of  today  should  see  the 


,  ^     {-     Mission  Play, 
^-A"^*  ~'";»':       San  Gabriel 


r:.  n\    1& 


n V^  H-^-LJ^  "^  -  H^^<  L- 


Mission  Play,  written  by  John  Steven  McGroarty, 
and  staged  in  its  own  special  theater  at  San  Gabriel, 
near  Los  Angeles,  in  the  shadow  of  old  San 
Gabriel  Mission.  This  unique  historical  pageant 
begins  about  Christmastime,  with  daily  perform- 
ances until  Spring.  It  faithfully  depicts  the  early 
hardships,  later  triumphs  and  final  decline  of  the 
Franciscan  missions.  Fra  Junipero  Serra,  Don 
Gaspar  de  Portola,  and  other  notables  of  that 
period  are  personated  by  competent  actors.  The 
Mission  Play  has  three  acts  —  at  San  Diego  in 
1769,  Carmel  in    1784,   and   Capistrano   in   1847. 

LOS  ANGELES. 
One  can  hardly  cross  this  continent  of  ours  with- 
out gaining  a  new  idea  of  the  immense  historical 
significance  of  the  westward  yearning  of  the  Saxon, 
who  in  two  and  a  half  centuries  has  marched  from 
Plymouth  Rock  to  the  Sunset  Sea,  and  has  subor- 
dinated every  other  people  in  his  path  from  shore  to 
shore.  The  Spaniard  was  a  world-conqueror  in  his 
day,  and  master  of  California  before  the  Stars  and 
Stripes  had  been  devised.  The  story  of  his  subju- 
gation of  the  southwestern  portion  of  the  New 
World  is  the  most  brilliant  in  modern  historw     It 


Mission  Sai:  Juan  Capistranf> 


rrrV 


is  a  story  of  unexampled  deeds  of  arms.  Sword 
and  cross,  and  love  of  fame  and  gold,  arc  inextri- 
cably interwoven  with  it.  The  Saxon  epic  is  a 
more  complex  tale  of  obscure  heroism,  of  emigrant 
cavalcades,  of  pioneer  homes,  of  business  enter- 
prise. 

The  world  may  never  know  a  sublimer  indif- 
ference to  fatigue,  suffering  and  death  than 
characterized  the  Spanish  invaders  of  America  for 
more  than  two  centuries.  Whatever  the  personal 
considerations  that  allured  them,  the  extension  of 
Spanish  empire  and  the  advancement  of  the  cross 
amid  barbarians  was  their  effectual  purpose.  The 
conquistador  was  a  crusader,  and  with  all  his  cruelty 
and  rapacity  he  is  a  splendid  figure  of  incarnate 
force.  But  the  westward-flowing  wave  of  Saxon 
conquest  has  set  him,  too,  aside.  In  this  fair  land 
of  California,  won  at  smallest  cost,  and  seemingly 
created  for  him,  his  descendants  to-day  are  little 
more  than  a  tattered  fringe  upon  the  edges  of  the 
displacing  civilization.  He  has  left  his  mark  upon 
every  mountain  and  valley  in  names  that  will  long 
endure,  but  himself  has  been  supplanted.  He  has 
not  fled.     He  has  diminished,  faded  away. 

In  1 781  he  named  the  city  Pueblo  de  la  Rcina  de 
las  Angeles  (Town  of  the  Queen  of  the  Angels). 
The  Saxon,  the  man  of  business  now  supreme,  has 
retained  only  the  last  two  words  of  that  high 
sounding  appellation;  and  hardly  a  greater 
proportion  remains  of  the  original  atmos- 
phere of  this  old  Spanish  town.  You 
137 


^^5.; 


i»:fe&: 


The  Angelus 


will  find  a  Spanish  (Mexican)  quarter,  unkempt 
and  adobe,  containing  elements  of  the  picturesque; 
and  in  the  modern  portion  of  the  city  a  restaurant 
or  two  where  English  is  spoken  in  a  halting  fashion 
by  very  pretty  dark-skinned  girls,  and  you  may  sat- 
isfy, if  not  your  appetite,  perhaps  a  long-standing 
curiosity  regarding  tortillas,  and  frijoles,  and  chili 
con  came.  As  for  tamales,  they  are,  as  with  us,  a 
matter  of  curbstone  speculation. 

SeJiores,  seTioras,  and  senoritas  are  plentifully 
encountered  upon  the  streets,  but  are  not  in  general 
distinguished  by  any  peculiarity  of  attire.  Upon 
the  borders  of  the  city  one  finds  more  vivid  types, 
and  there  the  jacal,  a  poor  mud  hovel  thatched  with 
straw,  is  not  quite  extinct.  The  words  Spanish  and 
Mexican  are  commonly  used  in  California  to  dis- 
tinguish a  racial  difference.  Not  a  few  of  the 
Spanish  soldiery  and  colonists  originally  took  wives 
from  among  the  native  Indians.  Their  offspring 
has  had  its  charms  for  later  comers  of  still  other 
races,  and   a  complexity  of  mixture  has   resulted. 

The  term  Mexican  is  generally  understood  to 
apply  to  this  amalgamation,  those  of  pure  Castilian 
descent  preferring  to  be  known  as  Spanish.  The 
latter,  numerically  a  small  class,  represent  high 
types,  and  the  persistency  of  the  old  strain  is  such 
that  the  poorest  Mexican  is  to  a  certain  manner 
born.  He  wears  a  contented  mien,  as  if  his 
Diogenes-tub  and  his  imperceptible  larder  were  regal 
possessions,  and  he  does  not  easily  part  with  dignity 
and  self-respect. 


Hotel  Lankc'shim 


Hofcl  A^exavffr'tj 


The  existence  of  these  descendants  of  the  con- 
querors side  by  side  with  the  exponents  of  the  new 
regime  is  one  of  the  charms  of  Los  Angeles.  It  has 
others  in  historic  vein.  After  its  first  overland  con- 
nection with  the  East,  by  way  of  the  Santa  Fe 
Trail,  it  rapidly  took  on  the  character  of  a  wild 
border  town.  Its  romantic  career  of  progress  to 
its  present  enviable  estate  is  marked  by  monuments 
that  still  endure.  Fremont,  the  Pathfinder,  here 
first  raised  the  Stars  and  Stripes  in  1846,  and 
Winfield  Scott  Hancock,  as  a  young  captain,  had 
quarters  in  this  historic  town. 

In  i860  Los  Angeles  numbered  4,500  inhabitants; 
in  1880,  11,000;  in  1890,  50,000;  in  1900,  102,479; 
in  1910,  319,198.  To-day  450,000  is  claimed  for 
it  by  conservative  estimate. 

With  this  gallop  in  growth  its  commercial,  manu- 
facturing, banking,  transportation  and  other  large 
interests  have  kept  pace,  until  the  city  ranks  in  all 
particulars  with  the  important  cities  of  the  country. 
The  bank  clearings  in  19 12  reached  the  gratifying 
total  of  $1,168,941,700,  while  the  postoflice  busi- 
ness for  that  year  amounted  to  nearly  two  million 
dollars.  In  that  year,  also,  16,453  building  permits 
were  issued,  as  against   10,738  in   1910. 


Hotel  Van  Nuys 


Owing  to  the  great  number  of 
strangers  who  annually  come  here,  it 
far  outranks  other  cities  of  the  same 
population  in  metropolitan  attrac- 
tions. Its  hotels  are  legion  and  range 
from  the  most  elaborate  structures, 
with  luxurious  furnishings,  to  the 
most  modest.  In  this  respect  Los 
Angeles  is  outstripped  by  New  York 
alone  amongst  American  cities.  The 
fear  has  been  expressed  that  the  building  of 
new  hotels  must  cease,  not  because  of  lack 
of  patronage,  but  because  the  supply  of  alluring 
names  is  almost  exhausted.  Its  public  cafes  and 
theatres  are  numerous  and  as  varied  as  the  cosmo- 
politan patronage  requires.  In  two  of  its  theaters 
stock  companies  are  maintained  the  year  'round, 
producing  the  successful  plays  of  the  world  in  an 
artistic  manner,  while  the  other  theaters  have  the 
traveling  companies  sent  out  from  New  York. 

The  clubs  of  Los  Angeles  also  will  take  rank 
with  the  most  dignified  and  attractive  clubs  of 
other  cities.  No  better  examples  can  be  found 
anywhere  than  the  California  Club,  Jonathan, 
University  and  Country;  and  for  the  women  the 
Women's  Club  and  the  Ebell,  which  own  their 
own  homes,  and  others. 

Los  Angeles  is   an    up-to-date    American    city 

in   every  respect.     To  find    evidences  of   the  old 

Spanish  life  we  must  hunt  it  out  in  obscure  corners. 

Geographically,  Los  Angeles  covers  a  large  area. 

140 


It  is,  consequently,  not  surprising  to  find  that 
the  average  family  in  Los  Angeles  has  plenty 
of  elbow  room.  The  ordinary  size  of  a  resi- 
dence lot  is  50  by  150  feet,  and  many  are  con- 
siderably larger.  It  is  only  during  the  past  few- 
years  that  apartments  have  been  introduced, 
and  probably  ninety-five  per  cent  of  the 
permanent  residents  live  in  separate  homes. 
Wood  is  the  almost  universal  material  for  build- 
ing, pine  and  redwood  being  used.  Owing  to 
mild  climate,  the  expense  of  building  is  considerably 
less  than  in  the  East.  There  is  a  great  and  pleasing 
variety  in  the  architecture  of  Los  Angeles  residences. 
Of  late  the  Mission  style,  with  some  modifications, 
has  come  into  favor. 

Any  one  who  has  not  visited  Los  Angeles 
for  fifteen  years  would  scarcely  recognize  it 
to-day.  In  1886  there  was  not  a  paved  street, 
few  graded  streets  and  scarcely  any  business  blocks 
of  importance.  To-day  there  are  many  miles  of 
paved  streets,  and  several  hundred  miles  of  public 
thoroughfares  are  graded  and  graveled. 

Los  Angeles  is  superbly  lighted  on  its  principal 
down-town  streets  with  elaborate  clusters  of  electric 
lamps, while  the  outlying  districts  are  fairly  sup- 
plied with  electricity.  It  was  the  first  city  in 
the  United  States  to  adopt  electricity  exclu- 
sively for  its  street  lighting.  Seen  from  one  of 
the  surrounding  hills,  it  is  a  striking  sight,  as 
the  lights  are  turned  on  in  the  evening, 
twinkling  like  stars  against  the  dark  firmament. 
141 


Christ's  Church 


-^  f^ ,  There   is  a  great  variety  of    sites    for    building 

'^  «^«lt-^,.,.y^.T=V^    within    the    city    Hmits.     In   the   northern   and 
^^'^J   northwestern  and  western  districts  are  hills,  from 
1^  many  of  which  a  view  of  the  ocean,  distant  about 
r^  fifteen  miles,  is  obtained,  with  the  Sierra  Madre 
range    of    mountains,    snow-capped    in    winter, 
^^  bounding  the  view  on  the  north.     These  hills 
have    come   into    favor    during    the    past    few 
years  as  residence  sites.     The  city  in  the  west 
end,  around  Westlalce  Park,  contains  thousands 
of  beautiful  homes. 

The  character  of  the  residents  reaches  a  high 
average  for  refinement  and  cultivation,  as  is  evi- 
denced by  their  homes.  A  drive  through  the 
residence  districts  will  well  repay  the  most  veteran 
explorer  of  cities.  The  architecture  is  as  attractive 
as  it  is  varied  and  presents  beautiful  examples  of 
every  school.  These  homes  are  set  on  lots  never 
less  than  50  feet  front,  almost  always  adorned  with 
smooth  lawns,  and  shaded  by  a  great  variety  of 
ornamental  trees  gathered  from  the  four  quarters 
of  the  globe.  One  sees  the  acacia,  the  camphor, 
jacaranda,  crepe  myrtle,  pepper,  magnolia,  euca- 
lyptus and  cypress;  also  palm  trees  of  many  kinds. 
Color  is  lent  by  flowers  and  flowering  shrubs  of 
even  greater  variety  than  the  trees,  and  as  some  of 
them  are  always  in  bloom,  the  beauty  of  the  home, 
no  matter  howhumble,  is  enhanced 
every  day  of  the  year. 

Electric  cars  connect  not    only 
the  different  section?  of  the  city, 


l^  Oman's  Club,  Los  Angeles 


but  furnish  rapid  and  frequent 
communication  with  Pasadena, 
SantaMonica, Ocean  Park, Venice, 
Redondo,  San  Pedro,  Long  Beach, 
Monrovia,  Glendalc,  Santa  Ana 
and  other  adjacent  towns. 

There  are  altogether  about  a  dozen  parks  within  Church  of  the 
the  city  b'mits  of  Los  Angeles,  of  which  five  are  Angels 
tracts  of  considerable  size.  In  these  parks  may  be 
seen  many  beautiful  examples  of  the  semi-tropic 
vegetation  which  flourishes  here.  In  four  of  them 
are  lakes,  with  boats,  and  music  is  usually  provided 
on  Sundays.  In  Eastlake  Park,  on  the  east  side 
of  the  river,  the  nurseries  are  worthy  of  inspection. 

The  Indian  Crafts  exhibition  occupies  fifteen 
acres  of  ground  on  Mission  Road,  near  Eastlake 
Park,  and  is  easily  reached  by  street  car.  Here 
Mr.  Antonio  Apache  has  gathered  typical  groups 
of  Indians  from  the  various  American  tribes,  who 
live  in  their  primitive  habitations,  wear  their  native 
dress,  and  work  at  their  aboriginal  handicrafts. 
The  principal  exhibition  building  is  an  exact  repro- 
duction of  one  of  the  old  Maya  palaces  of  Yucatan. 
Chief  Son-i-hat's  house  and  totem-pole,  brought 
from  Alaska,  are  also  located  here. 

Elysian  Park,  a  romantic,  hilly  tract  of  over  500 
acres  in  the  northern  part  of  the  city,  is  a  rem- 
nant of  the  thousands  of  acres  of  land  formerly 
owned  by  the  municipality.  Little  has  been  done  at 
Elysian  Park,  beyond  improving  the  portion  near  the 
entrance  and  the  construction  of  a  few  roads  from 


H3 


Hotel  (Jree/i,  Pasadena 


The  Raymond,  Pasadena 


'■m 


"^ 


Huntington  Hotel,  Pasadena 


which  enchanting  views  of  the  city  and  surrounding 
country  may  be  had.  Just  outside  of  Los  Angeles, 
on  the  north,  is  Griffith  Park,  a  tract  of  3,000  acres 
of  mountainous  land.  Nothing  has  yet  been  done 
toward  the  improvement  of  this  great  tract,  except 
a  start  at  reforestation  under  the  direction  of  a 
United  States  Government  forestry  expert. 

A  few  years  ago  Los  Angeles  purchased  from 
private  companies  the  neighboring  water  sources 
and  their  means  of  supply.  In  1905  30,000,000 
gallons  were  distributed  at  an  average  cost  of  ten 
cents  per  thousand  gallons.  As  the  growth  of  the 
city  threatened  to  be  limited  by  shortage  in  the  water 
supply,  it  has  reached  226  miles  across  mountains 
and  desert  to  the  Owens  River  and  has  undertaken 
to  bring  to  Los  Angeles  by  gravity  system,  at  a 
cost  estimated  at  $23,000,000,  a  supply  of  pure 
mountain  water  sufficient  to  maintain  a  city  of 
2,000,000  people.  About  258,000,000  gallons  will 
-be  delivered  every  day  into  high  reservoirs.  In 
addition  the  water  power  will  be  utilized  in 
producing  electrical  energy,  the  sale  of  which  will 
care  for  bonds  and  interest. 

Socially,  Los  Angeles  is  a  refined  and  cultivated 
community.  There  is  nothing  here  that  might  be 
termed  "  wild  and  woolly."  This  is  not  surprising, 
when  we  consider  that  Los  Angeles  has  been 
chiefly  settled  by  people  of  culture  from  east  of  the 
mountains.  The  school  facilities  are  excellent, 
including  a  great  variety  of   private    institutions    in 


10  145 


addition  to  the  public  schools.  All  religious  de- 
nominations are  liberally  represented.  An  arni\'  of 
specialists  give  instruction  in  music,  painting  and 
every  department  of  art  and  science.  Many  brilliant 
writers  and  artists  have  made  their  permanent  homes 
here,  or  in  the  suburbs.  Every  fraternal  society  of 
importance  is  represented. 

Why  does  Los  Angeles  grow  at  such  an  aston- 
ishing rate?  What  is  there  back  of  her,  what  to 
support  such  a  city? 

The  answer  comes  back  hot,  that  the  whole 
United  States  is  back  of  her  and  supports  her. 
Just  so  long  as  people  grow  rich  in  the  United 
States,  just  so  long  will  Los  Angeles  grow.  She  is 
like  the  best  residence  street  in  the  cities.  People 
who  can  afford  it  prefer  to  live  there,  and  in  their 
living  they  create  work  for  thousands  of  others. 
Her  climate  is  her  chief  asset,  but  this  asset  is  not 
shared  by  any  important  city  of  the  East.  She  has 
a  monopoly. 

Aside  from  this,  Los  Angeles  is  the  center  of  a 
rich  agricultural  section — richer  than  is  commonly 
supposed.  She  has  mining  interests  in  California, 
Arizona,  Nevada  and  Mexico,  which  return  a  big 
sum  every  year  in  dividends.  Her  manufacturing 
interests  are  growing  rapidly — she  is  the  center  of 
the  oil-producing  section  of  California  and  she  is 
casting  her  eyes  across  the  Pacific  and  down  the 
west  coast  at  the  commerce  that  may  come  to  her 
through  the  harbor  at  San  Pedro. 

Her  growth  really  has  been  a  normal  one. 

147 


Plaz.1i  Churiili 


'jiiliil  ui)i|fl'l?i"iiiVi5|i  Imtj  ^'ffte  ' 


Zo^  Angeles  Auditoritim 

A  glance   at  the  following  figures  will  indicate 
the  value  of  some  of  these  things  in  dollars: 


Citrus  Fruits $15,000,000 

Dried  Fruits  and  Rais- 
ins    2,050,000 

Nuts I  550  000 

Beans 1,800,000 

Othier  Vegetables 5,000.000 

Grain  and  Hay 5,750,000 

Sugar 3432,155 

Wine,  Brandy  and  Beer  875,000 

Canned  Goods 1,000,000 

Butter  and  Cheese. . . .  1,200,000 

Borax 1,280,000 

Poultry  and  Eggs 1,025,000 

Miscellaneous     Manu- 
factured   Products..  45,000,000 


Pork,  Beef,  Mutton, 
dressed i 

Fish  

Wool  and  Hides 

Fertilizers 

Gold  and  Silver 

Gems 

Petroleum  

Asphaltum 

Salt,  Mineral  Waters, 
Lithia 

Cement,  Clay,  Brick, 
Limestone,  Sand- 
stone,  Granite 

Lumber 

Lime 


;  5,500,000 

5,750,000 

550,000 

650,000 

3,900,000 

340,000 

12,000,000 

875,000 

170,000 


1,640,000 
300,000 
410,000 


PASADENA. 
Just  outside  the  limits  of  Los  Angeles,  intimately 
connected  by  railway  and  street  car  lines,  is  Pasa- 
dena, a  thriving  modern  city  of  35,000  inhabitants. 
For  the  origin  of  the  name  you  may  choose  between 
the  imputed  Indian  signification.  Crown  of  the 
Valley,  and  a  corruption  of  the  Spanish  Paso  de 
Eden  (Threshold  of  Eden),  It  is  in  any  event  the 
crown  of  that  Eden,  the  San  Ga- 
briel Valley,  which  nestles  warmly 
in  its  groves  and  rosebowers  below 
lofty  bulwarks  tipped  with  snow, 
U8 


California  Club,  Los  Angeles 


Here  an  Eastern  multitude  makes  regular 
winter  home  in  modest  cottage  or  imposing 
mansion.  Every  fruit  and  flower  and  every 
ornamental  tree  and  shrub  known  to  South- 
ern California  is  represented  in  the  elaborate 
grounds  of  this  little  realm. 

Orange  Grove  avenue  is  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  residence  thoroughfares  in  the  € 
United  States,  or  in  any  other  country,  for  ^l 
that  matter.  Pasadena  entertains  a  large 
crowd  of  Eastern  visitors  within  her  gates 
during  the  winter  months.  She  is  well  pre- 
pared to  receive  them,  hotels  and  lodging 
houses  being  numerous.  The  Raymond,  on 
the  hill,  is  a  prominent  landmark  for  many  miles 
around.  The  Hotel  Green,  adjoining  the  depot 
of  the  Santa  Fe,  is  a  fine  specimen  of  California 
architecture.  Another  notable  edifice  is  Hotel 
Maryland,  recently  enlarged.  Huntington  Hotel, 
the  magnificent  new  $1,300,000  hotel  on  Oak 
Knoll,  will  be  opened  December  15. 

Pasadena  is  noted,  too,  for  the  number  and 
beauty  of  its  church  edifices,  also  for  its  fine 
educational  institutions.  On  Mount  Wilson,  near 
by,  is  a  great  astronomical  obsen'atory  which  has 
a  world-wide  renown  and  boasts  the  largest  tele- 
scope on  earth.     Then  there  is  Mount  Lowe. 


Mr 


149 


The  Biiscli  Residence,  Pasade)ici 


f^^" 


.^.^ 


»/: 


Hotel  Maryland,  Pasadena 


i 


MOUNT    LOWE. 


From  Los  Angeles,  through  Pasadena  and 
Altadena,  electric  railway  cars  run  to  Ruble 
Canyon,  a  distance  of  sixteen  miles.  There 
from  an  altitude  of  2,200  feet,  the  cable 
incline  conveys  visitors  to  the  summit  of 
Echo  Mountain,  nearly  1,400  feet  higher. 
From  this  point,  where  there  is  an  observa- 
tory already  somewhat  famous  for  astronomical 
discoveries,  radiate  many  miles  of  bridle-paths, 
and  another  electric  railway  extends  to  still 
loftier  heights  at  the  Alpine  Tavern,  nearly 
a  mile  above  the  sea,  and  v^^ithin  a  thousand 
feet  of  the  objective  summit,  which  is  reached 
by  bridle-path.  There  is  no  more  pleasurable 
mountain  trip  than  this,  nor  anywhere  one  more 
easy  of  accomplishment.  Sufficiently  elevated 
above  its  surroundings  to  afford  commanding  views 
which  stretch  across  wondrously  fertile  valleys  to 
other  ranges  upon  the  one  hand  and  to  the  coast- 
w^ise  islands  of  the  Pacific  upon  the  other,  the  total 
altitude  is  not  great  enough  to  distress  those  who 
are  disordered  by  the  thin  air  of  more  exalted 
summits,  as  in  the  Rockies.  Among  the  manifold 
attractive  features  of  California  the  ascent  of 
Mount  Lowe  worthily  holds  a  conspicuous  place. 
Its  details  are  fully  described  in  local  publi-  "^ 
cations,    and   may  be  omitted   here. 


151 


THE  "  KITE-SHAPED  TRACK." 

The  most  interesting  trip  for  a  stranger  in  Southern 
California  is  that  over  the  "Kite-shaped  Track" 
of  the  Santa  Fe.  A  visitor  can  not  do  better  than 
to  make  this  journey,  during  w^hich  he  passes 
through  the  heart  of  the  most  thickly  populated 
and  best  cultivated  portion  of  the  "  Land  of  the 
Afternoon."  It  is  possible  to  make  this  trip  be- 
tvv^een  breakfast  and  dinner,  allowing  time  for  an 
inspection  of  Riverside  and  Redlands,  but  days  can 
be  most  delightfully  spent  in  many  of  the  tow^ns 
passed,  and  mdefinite  periods  in  these  two. 

The  track  is  in  the  shape  of  two  loops,  the 
larger  one  extending  from  Los  Angeles  to  San 
Bernardino  and  the  smaller  end  from  San  Bernar- 
dino to  Redlands. 

The  traveler  may  start  from  Los  Angeles  either 
by  the  northern  or  southern  branch  of  the  "  kite." 
Twenty-five  minutes  after  leaving  the  city,  by  the 
northern  route,  the  train  arrives  at  Pasadena. 
Turning  eastward  from  Pasadena,  the  Santa  Fe 
line  traverses  the  heart  of  the  San  Gabriel  Valley, 
the  most  beautiful  stretch  of  country  of  equal 
expanse  in  all  California.  Especially  is  this  so  in 
winter  when  covered  with  a  vivid  mantle  of  green, 
beyond  which  are  the  tawny  foothills,  dotted  over 
with    chapparal,    backed    by    the    majestic    Sierra 


California  Limited  in  Southern  California 


Madre,  pine-fringed  and  often  snow-clad  in  winter, 
when  oranges  are  ripening  in  the  valley  below. 

East  of  Pasadena  the  train  runs  for  several  miles 
through  the  Santa  Anita  ranch  of  "  Lucky"  Bald- 
win. The  home  place,  with  its  lake  and  beautiful 
grounds  and  thoroughbred  horses,  is  a  favorite  resort 
for  Los  Angeles  people  and  visitors.  There  are 
many  well  kept  orchards  of  citrus  and  deciduous 
fruits  in  the  valley.  The  old  mission,  from  which 
the  valley  obtained  its  name,  lies  several  miles  to  the 
south,  and  is  not  visible  from  the  train.  A  dozen 
flourishing  towns  are  scattered  along  the  fifty 
miles  between  Pasadena  and  San  Bernardino.  The 
most  important  of  these  are  Pomona,  Upland  and 
Ontario,  through  which  the  Santa  Fe  runs.  At 
Pomona  a  specialty  is  made  of  olive  culture. 
Ontario  and  Upland  are  celebrated  for  their  lemons. 
In  the  vicinity  of  Cucamonga  are  io,000  acres  of 
vineyards. 

An  electric  car  line  runs  from  Ontario  through 
Upland  to  the  Canyon  at  the  head  of  Euclid 
avenue,  a  wide,  shaded  thoroughfare.  On  either 
side  nestle  the  homes  of  the  citizens,  embowered  in 
orange  and  lemon  groves  and  gardens.  Ontario 
was  founded  by  the  Chafiey  brothers,  somewhat 
more  than  twenty  years  ago.  They  are  now  en- 
gaged in  developing  the  settlement  of  Imperial 
on  the  Colorado  desert,  near  Yuma, 
visitor  from  sections  of  the  East  where  h 
soils  are  the  rule  will  probably  notice 
lightness  of  much  of  the  soil  between  Ont 

153 


L 


and  San  Bernardino.  With  an  ample  water 
supply,  it  gives  excellent  results  in  fruit  culture. 
At  Cucamonga  are  some  of  the  largest  vineyards 
in  California.  North  of  San  Bernardino  there  is 
seen  on  the  mountain  side  what  looks  like  a  big 
arrowhead. 

San  Bernardino  is  an  old  city,  as  age  is  reckoned 
among  the  American  improvements  of  Southern 
California,  having  been  settled  by  Mormons  from 
Salt  Lake  City  in  the  fifties.  They  were  after- 
ward ordered  back  to  Utah,  but  a  few  of  them 
chose  to  remain  in  this  land  of  promise,  and  some  of 
their  descendants  are  still  living  there.  Here  are 
the  Santa  Fe  shops,  which  give  employment  to 
hundreds  of  men.  The  merchants  of  the  place  do 
a  considerable  trade  with  the  surrounding  country. 
A  fine  toll  road  leads,  by  an  easy  grade,  up  to  the 
pine-clad  summit  of  the  mountains,  back  of  San 
Bernardino,  where,  amid  the  big  forest  trees,  is  a 
picturesque  clubhouse,  known  as  Squirrel  Inn, 
surrounded  by  cottages,  in  which  some  of  the 
members  of  the  club  spend  weeks  every  summer. 

At  San  Bernardino  commences  the  smaller  loop 
of  the  Kite-shaped  Track,  which  runs  around  the 
upper  end  of  the  Santa  Ana  Valley.  Here,  in  the 
foothills,  overlooking  a  magnificent  panorama  of 
mountain  and  valley,  lies  Redlands,  a  beautiful 
city,  twenty-five  years  of  age,  having  been  laid  out 


Squirrel  Inn 


■'-t::^S^t,_; 


(luring  the  big  real  estate  boom  of  1887.  Redlands 
people  claim  that  the  finest  oranges  in  California  — 
or  in  the  world  —  are  raised  there,  and  the  prices 
paid  for  the  product  in  the  East  seem  to  justify 
their  assertions.  Canyon  Crest  Park,  Smiley 
Heights,  a  picturesque  and  beautifully  improved 
private  estate,  from  which  there  are  magnificent 
views  of  the  surrounding  country,  is  open  to  visitors. 
Up  in  the  mountains,  behind  Redlands,  and  con- 
nected by  a  stage  line  during  the  summer  months, 
is  Bear  Valley,  with  its  lake,  from  which  water  is 
obtained  for  the  thirsty  orchards  below. 

This  is  a  favorite  camping  place  for  the  valley 
people,  who  find  excellent  fishing  and  shooting,  with 
plain  and  comfortable  accommodations  at  several 
points  in  the  valley.  There  are  sawmills  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. Returning  around  the  loop,  close  to  the 
foothills,  the  train  passes  Highland,  where  is  located 
one  of  the  State  insane  asylums.  Back  in  the  hills, 
but  plainly  visible  from  the  train,  lies  Arrowhead 
Hot  Springs  and  its  fine  new  hotel.  San  Bernardino 
is  soon  again  reached,  and  the  train  runs  southward 
on  its  spin  around  the  lower  branch  of  the  loop. 
Colton  is  a  railroad  junction.  Between  Colton  and 
Riverside  a  branch  of  the  Santa  Fe  runs  ofif  to 
the  southeast,  through  a  section  of  the  country 
that  has  been  celebrated  by  Helen  Hunt  Jackson, 
in  her  widely  read  Southern  California  novel, 
"  Ramona,"  to  Ferris,  where  it  again  divides.  One 
branch  runs  to  San  Jacinto,  in  the  valley  of  that 
name,  the  starting-place  for  Strawberry  Valley,  a 
155 


romantic  spot  among  the  pines,  a  mile  above  th^ 
cities  of  the  plain.  This  for  many  years  has  been  a 
favorite  camping  ground  during  the  summer  months, 
and  recently  has  been  made  more  attractive  by 
the  erection  of  a  hotel  on  the  detached  cottage 
plan  with  central  cafe  and  casino.  The  visitor 
w^ho  is  fairly  robust  may  scale  the  summit  of  San 
Jacinto  Mountain,  five  thousand  feet  higher  up. 
Idyllwild,  as  this  resort  is  now  known,  is  reached 
from  Hemet  by  stage.  The  main  branch  of  the 
Santa  Fe  from  Ferris  extends  to  Elsinore  and 
Temecula.  At  Elsinore  there  is  a  lake  of  consider- 
able size,  and  more  than  a  hundred  hot  springs, 
with  great  curative  properties.  Around  the  lake  is 
a  drive,  fifteen  miles  long.  Near  Murietta,  south 
of  Elsinore,  is  another  group  of  hot  springs. 

The  run  from  San  Bernardino  to  Riverside 
is  alongside  a  big  cement  main  ditch.  Riverside 
is  a  locality  renowned  for  navel  oranges,  culmina- 
ting in  a  busy  little  city  of  12,000  population, 
overhung  by  mountain  battlements  and  pendant 
to  two  hundred  miles  of  shaded  and  oiled  avenues, 
lined  with  tall  eucalyptus,  drooping  pepper  and 
magnolia  trees,  and  broken  only  by  short  lateral 
driveways  through  palm,  orange  and  cypress  to 
mansion    homes.     The    almost    continuous    citrus 


Arrowhead  Hotel 


groves  of  Riverside  are  the  result  of  twenty 
years  of  co-operative  efifort,  supplemented  by  some 
preponderating  advantages  of  location.  The 
pioneer  settlers  had  much  to  contend  with,  but 
they  persevered,  and  their  monument  is  visible 
to  all.  The  community  is  one  of  culture  and 
refinement,  and  the  Riversiders  boast  that  their 
city  is  the  wealthiest  in  the  United  States,  in 
proportion  to  population. 

The  Mission  Inn,  at  Riverside,  is  a  modern 
hotel,  combining  the  picturesqueness  of  the 
eighteenth  century  with  the  luxury  of  the 
twentieth.  It  is  a  long,  low,  cloistered  building,  in 
style  like  the  old  missions — tiled  roof,  arched  porches 
and  many  a  gable — built  around  a  spacious  court. 
This  court  is  faced  by  a  long  palm  promenade. 
The  tower  is  a  campanile,  with  twelve  ancient 
bells,  where  vesper  hymns  and  old  Spanish  tunes 
are  played.  Inside  this  hospitable  inn  you  see  open 
chimney-places,  massive  beamed  ceilings,  mission- 
bell  chandeliers,  iron  latches  on  the  doors,  and 
other  reminders  of  the  old  California  days. 

The  most  striking  features  of  the  old-time  mis- 
sions are  reproduced  in  a  recent  addition  to  the 
inn,  called  the  cloister.  In  the  assembly  hall  thereof 
is  a  magnificent  cathedral  pipe  organ. 

Automobiles  meet  Santa  Fe  trains,  carrying 
passengers  to  the  U.  S.  Indian  School  and  up 
Rubidoux  mountain  ;  the  summit  is  reached   by  a 

^1     ' 


\^  ■'^-■ 


u 


V'V^4**v^!^ 


\S%^'     .  ^/- 


%■& 


*%-- 


^'■'i/''mji///  ■--      _/__ 

■''r-'TT'rc-'   •    ,  ' TZ7.  < 


Mission  It 
fine  road   with  easy  grades,  equal  to   aiij'   Alpine 
highway,  and  the  jcy  of  all  autoists. 

After  leaving  the  station,  the  train  runs  for  sev- 
eral miles  through  a  succession  of  well-kept  orange 
groves.  Fourteen  miles  from  Riverside  is  Corona, 
a  colony  famous  for  oranges  and  lemons.  A  tree- 
lined  avenue  extends  between  the  two  places.  A 
few  miles  farther  and  the  track  follows  the  wind- 
ings of  the  Canyon  of  the  Santa  Ana  River,  through 
a  wild,  picturesque  region,  bounded  on  each  side 
by  low  ranges  of  mountains.  Orange  is  the  next 
place  of  importance.  The  three  towns  of  Santa 
Ana,  Orange  and  Tustin  form  practically  one  con- 
tinuous settlement  of  attractive  homes. 

Here  one  may  travel  mile  after  mile,  over  good 
roads,  aligned  by  beautiful  shade  trees,  behind 
which  are  orchards  of  deciduous  and  citrus  fruit,  in 
a  high  state  of  cultivation.  Orange  is  a  railroad 
junction  on  the   line    from    Los    Angeles  to  San 


A  ready,  Montecito 


i 


yverside,  Cal. 

Diego,  b}'^  way  of  Santa  Ana.  Anaheim,  the  next 
stopping  place,  is  the  pioneer  settlement  of  this 
region,  having  been  founded  more  than  forty  years 
ago  as  a  co-operative  vineyard  colony  by  Germans 
from  San  Francisco.  The  town  lies  a  short  distance 
from  the  railroad.  A  few  miles  west  of  Anaheim, 
and  connected  with  it  by  a  short  line  of  railroad,  is 
the  Los  Alamitos  beet  and  sugar  factory,  in  which 
Senator  Clark,  the  Montana  and  Arizona  mining 
millionaire,  is  interested.  Fullerton,  the  next  largest 
town  of  Orange  County,  was  laid  out  during  the 
real  estate  boom  of  1887.  It  has  since  developed  on 
merit,  and  it  is  now  an  important  shipping  point 
for  horticultural  products.  There  are  also  a  number 
of  profitable  oil  wells  in  the  neighborhood. 

La  Mirada,  with  a  pretty  little  sta- 
tion, built  in  the  Mission  style  of  archi- 
tecture, is  the  center  of  an  extensive 
tract  of  olive  and  lemon  orchards, 
covering    3,000    acres.      In    connec- 

159 


tion  with  this  enterprise  is  a  chemical  laboratory, 
in  which  are  prepared  a  number  of  by-products 
from  the  orange,  lemon  and  grapefruit.  Santa  Fe 
Springs,  formerly  known  as  Fulton  Wells,  is  so 
named  from  springs  of  mineral  water,  for  which 
great  medicinal  effects  are  claimed  in  the  treat- 
ment of  rheumatism,  gout  and  other  diseases. 
There  is  a  sanitarium,  which  is  open  all  the  year 
around.  A  few  miles  away,  to  the  right,  on  the 
side  of  a  sloping  hill,  may  be  seen  Whittier,  which 
was  started  in  1887  as  a  Quaker  colony.  The 
large  brick  building  is  one  of  the  State  reform 
schools,  in  which  several  hundred  wayward  boys 
and  girls  are  taught  useful  trades.  Fine  lemons 
and  other  fruit  are  raised  at  Whittier,  and  there 
are  a  number  of  producing  oil  wells  in  the  hills 
back  of  the  town.  Rivera,  a  smalt  settlement 
between  the  old  and  the  new  San  Gabriel  Rivers, 
is  the  chief  walnut-growing  section  of  Southern 
California.  Standing  upon  the  dome  of  the  hotel, 
and  looking  to  the  northeast,  south  and  west,  the 
eye  may  follow  long  stretches  of  this  valuable  tree, 
for  miles  in  every  direction.  In  less  than  twenty 
minutes  after  leaving  Rivera  the  train  pulls  up  at 
the  Los  Angeles  depot. 


Hotel 
Redondo 


Tilton's  Trolley  Trips,  "One  hundred  miles  for 
one  hundred  cents,"  operated  from  Los  Angeles, 
furnish  a  very  satisfactory  way  of  seeing  many  of 
the  best  points  of  interest  in  Southern  California 
within  touch  of  Los  Angeles  by  electric  lines. 
These  include  rides  in  special  electric  cars  to 
Pasadena,  the  old  Mission  San  Gabriel,  Cawston 
Ostrich  Farm,  Long  Beach,  San  Pedro  and  several 
other  places. 

SEASIDE  RESORTS. 

There  are  several  popular  seaside  resorts  in  the 
vicinity  of  Los  Angeles,  easily  reached,  within  an 
hour,  by  steam  or  electric  cars.  They  are  largely 
patronized  by  residents  and  visitors,  especially  dur- 
ing the  summer  months.  Of  late  the  fact  has 
begun  to  be  realized  that  in  some  respects  these 
places  are  even  more  attractive  during  the  winter, 
after  the  rains  have  carpeted  the  surrounding 
country  with  a  mantle  of  green,  and  laid  the  dust. 
It  is  no  uncommon  thing  to  see  a  crowd  of  merry 
visitors  sporting  amid  the  breakers  at  Christmas, 
in  plain  view  of  the  snow-capped  Sierra  Madre 
Mountains. 

The  chief  of  these  resorts  are  Redondo,  Santa 
Monica,  Long  Beach,  Ocean  Park  and  Venice. 
Santa  Monica  is  the  oldest.  All  are  well  improved, 
progressive  towns,  with  beautiful  homes,  fine 
beaches,  comfortable  hotels  and  many  attractions 
for  summer  visitors. 


11  i6i 


Venice  of  America 


The  census  of  1910  showed  that  Long  Beach 
had  grown  from  2,252  to  17,809  inhabitants  in  the 
decade.  This  was  a  gain  of  690.8  per  cent,  and  is 
remarkable  as  the  largest  shown  by  any  American 
city. 

Along  its  semicircle  of  ocean  front  is  nine  and  a 
half  miles  of  broad,  sandy  beach,  fine  for  surf-bath- 
ing. At  low  tide  this  becomes  a  wave-swept  boule- 
vard of  hard  sand,  the  lasting  delight  of  motorist 
and  horseman.  To  the  west  is  a  land-locked 
harbor. 

Long  Beach  has  nine  grammar  schools  with  a 
registration  of  about  five  thousand,  and  a  modern 
Polytechnic  high  school  with  an  attendance  of 
nearly  a  thousand.  The  hotel  accommodations 
are  exceptional.  Hotel  Virginia,  situated  on  the 
beach,  has  few  equals  along  the  coast.  Other 
good  hotels  are  the  Kennebec,  Arlington,  Julian 
and  many  smaller  ones. 

Alamitos  Bay  and  Naples  nestle  close  to  the 
Orange  county  line,  just  east  of  Long  Beach,  con- 
nected with  that  city  by  two  electric  lines,  which 
give  twenty-five-minute  service.  Naples  is  trav- 
ersed  by  about   five  miles   of  canals    whose    banks 


Hotel  Virginia,  Long  Reach 


'2 


;ire  dotted  by  summer  homes  ;  there  is  also  a  well- 
equipped  hotel  of  fifty  rooms.  At  Alamitos  Bay, 
across  the  channel,  are  many  cafes  popular  for 
Sunday  dinners  and  evening  parties. 

North  of  Long  Beach  is  another  suburb,  Signal 
Hill,  four  hundred  feet  above  the  sea.  From  here 
twenty-two  other  towns  are  visible  on  a  clear  day. 

San  Pedro,  with  its  potential  prominence  as  a 
harbor  and  its  already  important  commerce,  is  the 
principal  port  of  Los  Angeles.  Many  million  dol- 
lars are  to  be  spent  here  widening  and  deepening 
the  channel  for  entrance  of  big  steamers.  The 
fishing  industry  gives  employment  to  some  seven 
liundred  people.  The  town  also  is  historically  inter- 
esting to  all  readers  of  Dana's  "Two  Years  Before 
the  Mast." 

Terminal  is  a  port  of  considerable  importance, 
particularly  in  its  receipts  of  lumber,  which  in  1911 
ran  upwards  of  250,000,000  feet. 

Redondo  is  a  pleasant  beach  resort.  A  friendly 
point  of  land  shelters  it  from  harsh  breezes  and 
mellows  the  winter  temperature  to  a  delightful 
mildness.  The  completion  at  Redondo  of  a  great 
power  plant,  the  development  of  the  oil  industry, 
and  the  building  of  the  Standard  Oil  Company's 
large  refining  plant  at  near-by  El  Segundo,  have 
materially  aided  its  growth.  Near  the  shore  is  a 
summer  tent  city,  with  mammoth  plunge,  casino, 
auditorium  and  other  amusement  features. 

Manhattan  Beach  is  a  popular  resort  on  the  line 
of  the  Pacific  Electric,  as  it  follows  the  crescent 
i6] 


of  Santa  Monica  Bay,  south  from  Playa  del  Rey  to 
Redondo.  It  occupies  a  commanding  position  on 
the  clifif  overlooking  the  sea. 

Santa  Monica,  one  of  the  oldest  of  the  beach 
towns  adjacent  to  Los  Angeles,  has  numerous 
hotels  of  which  Hotel  Windemere,  in  Mission  style, 
is  the  most  pretentious.  An  even  larger  one  is 
planned  to  the  north  of  the  town,  with  bathhouse, 
auditorium  and  casino  in  connection.  Handsome 
clubhouses  shelter  social  and  fraternal  organiza- 
tions. The  summer  life  of  Santa  Monica  is  enliv- 
ened by  the  usual  entertainment  features. 

Port  Los  Angeles,  near  the  mouth  of  Santa 
Monica  Canyon,  possesses  the  longest  wooden  pier 
on  the  coast,  costing  about  one  million  dollars,  and 
devoted  almost  wholly  to  fishing. 

Notable  improvements  recently  have  been  made 
at  Venice,  the  amusement  center  of  this  section. 
It  is  another  Coney  Island,  only  more  dignified. 
Here  the  seeker  after  new  thrills  finds  roller  coast- 
ers, grist  mill  and  rapids,  theaters,  a  captive  aero- 
plane and  an  auto  racing  course.  Venice's  Tent 
City  also  has  been  enlarged.  Several  new  pleasure 
piers  are  under  construction,  each  a  thousand  feet 
long,  equipped  with  scenic  railways  that  will  carry 
passengers  beneath  the  sea,  also  with  casinos  and 
roof  gardens. 


164 


SANTA  CATALINA  ISLAND. 

Thirty  miles  off  the  coast  it  rises,  like  Capri, 
from  the  sea,  a  many-peaked  mountain  cap,  vary- 
ing in  width  from  half  a  mile  to  nine  miles,  and 
more  than  twenty  long.  Its  bold  cliff  shores  are 
broken  by  occasional  pockets  rimmed  by  a  semi- 
circular beach  of  sand.  The  most  famous  of  these 
is  Avalon,  one  of  the  most  frequented  camping 
grounds  of  Southern  California.  In  midsummer  its 
numerous  hotels  are  filled  to  overflowing,  and  in 
the  hundreds  of  tents  clustered  by  the  water's  edge 
thousands  of  pleasure-seekers  gather  in  the  height 
of  the  season.  Summer  is  the  period  of  Santa 
Catalina's  greatest*  animation,  for  then,  as  in  other 
lands,  comes  vacation  time.  But  there  is  evenjess 
variation  of  season  than  on  the  mainland,  and  the 
nights  are  soft  and  alluring,  because  the  seaward- 
blowing  mountain  air  is  robbed  of  all  its  chill  in 
passing  over  the  equable  waters.  Here  after  night- 
fall verandas  and  the  beach  are  still  thronged.  The 
tiny  harbor  is  filled  with  pleasure-craft  of  every 
description,  from  rowboats  to  commodious  yachts, 
and  hundreds  of  bathers  disport  in  the  placid  ele- 
ment. 

Wonderful  are  the  waters  of  Avalon,  blue 
as  a  Mediterranean  sky  and  astonishingly  clear. 
Through  the  glass  bottom  of  skiffs  specially  con- 
structed for  the  purpose  you  may  gaze  down 
through  a  hundred  feet  *of  transparency  to  where 
emerald  weeds  wave,  and  myriad  fishes,  blue   and 


i6s 


^«i^<^Vv 


((( ''\ 


\#  '^  ffks.:m 


i€P' 


brown  and  flaming  red,  swim  over  pebble  and  shell. 
Or,  climbing  the  overhanging  cliffs,  you  gain  the 
fish-eagle's  view  of  the  life  that  teems  in  water- 
depths,  and  looking  down  half  a  thousand  feet  upon 
the  fisherman  in  his  boat  see  the  bright-hued  fishes 
flashing  far  beneath  him.  He  seems  to  hang  sus- 
pended in  the  sk;\ . 

Notable  fishing  is  to  be  had.  The  barracuda  is 
plentiful;  likewise  the  yellow-tail,  or  sea-salmon, 
also  generally  taken  by  trolling,  and  frequently- 
tipping  a  truthful  scale  at  fifty  pounds.  Sea-bass 
fishing  is  a  famous  sport  here,  and  probably  the 
most  exciting  known  anywhere  to  the  hand-fisher- 
man. This  fish  is  commonly  taken,  and  in  weight 
ranges  from  200  to  400  pounds.  The  fisherman 
who  hooks  one  is  frequently  dragged  in  his  skiff  for 
several  miles,  and  finds  himself  nearly  as  much 
exhausted  as  the  fish  when  it  finally  comes  to  gaff. 

The  most  popular  fishing  at  Catalina,  however,  is 
for  the  tuna,  known  in  the  Mediterranean  as  the 
"  tunny,"  a  gamy  fish  that  furnishes  the  ambitious 
angler  all  the  sport  he  can  reasonably  expect,  and 
more  than  many  can  appreciate.  Visitors  come 
from  all  over  the  world  to  fish  for  tuna  at  Catalina, 
and  a  tuna  club  has  been  formed,  which  issues 
diplomas  and  prizes  to  those  who  capture  with  rod 
and  reel  the  biggest  tuna  during  each  season.  They 
must  do  it  without  assistance,  and  this  is  frequently 
a  difficult  job,  as  the  tuna  sometimes  weighs  over 
250  pounds,  and  has  been  known  to  pull  a  boat  con- 
taining three  people  for  nearly  twelve  hours.      The 

167 


favorite  diet  of  the  tuna  is  flying-fish,  in  following 
which  they  will  jump  out  of  the  water  and  catch 
their  prey  in  the  air.  The  average  weight  of 
sixty-one  tuna  caught  with  rod  and  reel  at  Catalina 
during  the  season  of  1901  was  119  1-2  pounds,  and 
of  142  black  sea-bass,  or  "jewfish,"  caught  in  like 
manner,  225  i-2  pounds. 

Perhaps  the  greatest  novelty  of  a  trip  to  Santa 
Catalina,  for  most  travelers,  is  the  great  number  of 
flying-fish  that  inhabit  its  waters.  At  only  a  few 
miles'  distance  from  the  mainland  they  begin  to  leap 
from  beneath  the  bows  of  the  steamer,  singly,  by 
twos  and  by  half  dozens,  until  one  wearies  of  count- 
ing, and  skim  over  the  waves  like  so  many  swal- 
lows. The  length  of  flight  of  which  this  poetical 
fish  is  capable  proves  usually  a  surprise,  for  in  spite 
of  its  abundance  of?  the  Southern  California  coast  its 
precise  character  is  none  too  generally  known.  In 
size,  form  and  color  it  may  be  roughly  compared 
to  the  mackerel.  Its  "wings"  are  muscular  fins 
whose  spines  are  connected  by  a  light  but  strong 
membrane,  and  are  four  in  number.  The  hinder- 
most  pair  are  quite  small,  mere  butterfly  wings  of 
stout  fiber;  the  foremost  pair  attain  a  length  of 
seven  or  eight  inches,  and  when  extended  are  two 
inches  or  more  in  breadth.  Breaking  from  the 
water  at  a  high  rate  of  speed,  but  at  a  very  low 
angle,  the  flying-fish  extends  these  winglike  fins 
and  holds  them  rigid,  like  the  set  wings  of  a  soaring 
hawk.  With  the  lower  flange  of  its  deeply  forked 
tail,  which  at  first  drags  lightly,  it  sculls  with  a  con- 
i6g 


vulsive  wriggle  of  the  whole  body  that  gives  it  the 
casual  appearance  of  actually  winging  its  way.  The 
additional  impulse  thus  acquired  lifts  it  entirely 
from  the  water,  over  whose  surface  it  then  glides 
without  further  effort  for  a  long  distance,  until, 
losing  in  momentum  and  in  the  sustaining  pressure 
of  the  air  beneath  its  outstretched  fins,  it  again 
touches  the  water,  either  to  abruptly  disappear  or 
by  renewed  sculling  to  prolong  its  flight.  Whales 
of  great  size  are  frequently  seen  in  the  channel 
separating  Catalina  from  the  mainland. 

Santa  Catalina  is  reached  by  steamer  from  San 
Pedro,  connecting  with  trains  from  Los  Angeles. 
The  exhilarating  ocean  ride  and  the  unique  pleas- 
ures of  the  island  can  not  be  too  strongly  com- 
mended. 

Two  new  steamers  soon  will  be  built,  shortening 
the  channel  trip  between  San  Pedro  and  Avalon  to 
an  hour  and  a  quarter. 


SANTA  BARBARA. 

Santa  Barbara  long  has  been  known  the  world  over 
as  "  The  American  Mentone,"  because  in  seeking  a 
term  to  convey  its  characteristics  some  comparison 
with  celebrated  resorts  of  Europe  was  thought  nec- 
essary and  this  particular  comparison  most  fitting. 

Such  comparison  is  no  longer  required.  Santa 
Barbara  is  a  name  that  now  everywhere  evokes  the 
soft  picture  of  a  rose-buried  spot,  more  than  a  village, 
less  than  a  city,  rising  gently  from  the  sea-rim  by 
way  of  shade. i  avenue  and  plaza  to  the  foot  of  the 
169 


gray  Santa  Ynez  Mountains,  above  whose  peaks 
the  condor  loves  to  soar ;  where,  when  with  us  the 
winter  winds  are  most  bitter,  normal  existence  is  a 
joyous  activity  in  constant  summer  sunshine.  It 
presents  an  endless  variety  of  winsomeness.  Here 
are  found  the  best  climatic  advantages  of  Egypt, 
Italy,  the  Hawaiian  Islands  and  Florida. 

The  flat  beach  is  broken  by  rocky  points 
where  the  surf  spouts  in  white  columns  with  deaf- 
ening roar,  and  above  it  lies  a  long  mesa,  dotted 
with  live-oaks,  that  looks  down  upon  the  little 
dreaming  mission  city  and  far  oceanward  ;  and  on 
the  other  hand  the  mountain  slopes  beckon  to 
innumerable  glens,  and,  when  the  rains  have  come, 
to  broad  hillsides  of  green  and  banks  of  blossom. 
There  are  long  level  drives  by  the  shore,  and  up  the 
prolific  valley  to  famous  orchard  ranches,  and  Mon- 
tecito,  a  fairyland  of  homes,  is  close  at  hand. 
Between  Los  Angeles  and  Santa  Barbara,  on  the 
coast,  lies  San  Buena  Ventura,  with  a  well  preserved 
mission,  and  Summerland,  where  may  be  seen  the 
curious  spectacle  of  oil  wells  pumping  from  wharves 
erected  for  the  purpose,  and  extending  beyond  low- 
water  mark. 

Four  Channel  Islands  lie  opposite  Santa  Barbara— 
Anacapa,  Santa  Cruz,  Santa  Rosa,  and  San  Miguel. 
The  last  three  are  only  less  attractive  by  nature 
than  Santa  Catalina.  Fishing  boats  frequently 
leave  Santa  Barbara  for  the  island  fishing  grounds. 


170 


C<«|l     11  HP  I      »t2^» 

I  •  k  a   11  I II   I  J> ";«   »! 


^^m-%^    ^^ 


HoUi  Potter, 
Santa  Barbara 


These  islands  are  now  permanently  inhabited  only 
by  sheep-herders,  who  tend  flocks  of  many  thousands. 

Santa  Barbara  lies  northwest  from  Los  Angeles, 
on  the  coast  line  of  the  Southern  Pacific.  It  is 
a  thriving  town  of  15,000  inhabitants,  with  paved 
highways,  busy  stores  and  attractive  residences. 
Modern  American  methods  are  in  evidence  along 
the  business  streets,  but  Santa  Barbara  still  has  much 
to  remind  one  of  the  early  Spanish  days.  The  old 
mission  is  elsewhere  mentioned.  Here  the  visitor 
may  enjoy  outdoor  life  to  the  utmost ;  deep-sea 
fishing,  autoing,  golf,  and  horseback  riding  are  the 
principal  pastimes. 

Santa  Barbara  is  splendidly  equipped  to  care  for 
the  tourist.  The  old  Arlington  Hotel  made  Santa 
Barbara  one  place  on  the  coast  that  should  not  be 
hastily  passed  by.  Now  a  new  Arlington  has  risen 
on  the  old  site.  It  is  a  magnificent  fireproof 
structure  in  the  strictly  Mission  style,  with  grace- 
ful arches,  recessed  windows  and  red-tiled  roof. 
The  equipment  for  taking  care  of  its  possible  five 
hundred  guests  is  down  to  the  last  minute  in  perfect 
detail.  The  five-acre  tract  surrounding  the  hotel 
is  beautified  by  rose  gardens  and  palms. 

Hotel  Potter,  located  on  a  large  tract  facing  the 
ocean  boulevard,  is  a  palatial  edifice,  six  stories 
high,  covering  two  acres  of  ground  and  valued  at 
a  million  dollars.  The  architecture  is  that  of  the 
old  Spanish  missions.  There  are  five  hundred  guest 
rooms  and  four  roof  gardens.  The  hotel  also  has 
a  polo  ground  and  tennis  courts. 


The  A'txf  Arlington 
Sania  Harhara 


OSTRICH  FARMING. 

One  of  the  popular  attractions  of  Southern  Cali- 
fornia, that  is  visited  by  most  new  arrivals,  is  the 
ostrich  farm,  at  South  Pasadena,  beside  the  Santa 
Fe  track  and  a  short  ride  from  Los  Angeles  on  the 
electric.  Here  may  be  seen  150  ostriches,  ranging 
in  size  from  the  newly  hatched  chick  to  the 
mammoth,  full-grown  bird.  Ostriches  appear  to  do 
as  well  in  Southern  California  as  in  South  Africa, 
their  native  habitat.  There  were  formerly  several 
small  ostrich  farms  in  this  section,  but  they  have  all 
been  combined  in  the  establishment  at  South  Pasa- 
dena, which  has  been  running  for  a  number  of 
years.  It  is  not  merely  a  show  place  for  visitors, 
but  does  a  large  and  profitable  business  in  the  sale  of 
ostrich  feathers  and  useful  and  ornamental  articles 
manufactured  therefrom,  which  are  exported  to  all 
parts  of  the  United  States. 

There  were  recently  imported  to  this  farm  seven- 
teen Nubian  birds,  which  are  supposed  to  have  the 
finest  plumage  of  any  of  the  African  ostriches.  They 
run  wild,  and  the  only  way  to  obtain  them  is  by  bar- 
tering with  the  natives  for  the  chicks,  the  old  ones 
escaping.  As  there  is  an  export  duty  of  $500  on 
each  ostrich  sent  out  of  South  Africa,  these  are  the 
only  birds  that  can  now  be  obtained  to  improve  the 
California  stock.  The  proprietor  of  this  establish- 
ment  recently   opened    an    ostrich   farm    between 


172 


Nice  and  Monte  Carlo,  in  the  south  of  France, 
jwith  birds  from  South  Pasadena,  so  that  Southern 

Cah'fornia  may  now  add  to  her  other  varied 
(resources  the  exportation  of  ostriches. 

WINTER  SPORTS. 

Where  out-of-door  life  is  the  rule,  there  being 
[neitherfrost  nor  chill  throughout  the  day,  recreation 
becomes  a  matter  of  pure  selection,  unhampered  by 
[any  climatic  condition  outside  the  relatively  infre- 
luent  rainstorm.  A  few  enthusiasts  make  a  point 
of  taking  a  daily  dip  in  the  surf,  but  the  practice 
does  not  reach  the  proportions  of  a  popular  pastime 
in  midwinter.  Cross-country  riding  finds  then  its 
perfect  season,  the  whole  land  being  transformed 
into  a  garden,  over  enough  of  which  the  horseman 
is  free  to  wander.  Happy  must  he  be  who  knows 
a  purer  sport  than  to  gallop,  either  singly  or  with 
comrades,  in  fragrant  morning  air  over  a  fresh  sod 
spangled  with  poppy,  violet,  forget-me-not,  larkspur 
and  alfilerilla;  bursting  through  dense  thickets  of 
lilac  and  mustard  to  cross  an  intervening  highway ; 
dipping  to  verdant  meadow  vales  ;  skirting  orchards 
heavy  with  fruit,  and  mounting  tree-capped  knolls 
that  look  off  to  glimmers  of  sea  between  the  slopes 
of  the  hills. 

Coaching  has  its  proper  season  then,  as  well, 
and  the  horn  of  the  tallyho  is  frequently  heard. 
For  such  as  like  to  trifle  with  the  snows  from  which 
they  have  fled,  the  foothills  are  at  hand,  serried  with 
tall  firs  in   scattering  growths    or  dense  shadowy 


L^.i 


3i. 


'  ,  •■'■•% 

'  '^i''*.''' 

;*.''/'*' 

■^-^ 

■^,  jungles,  topping  canyons  where  the  wagon-trail 
<W lA  crosses  and  recrosses  a  stream  by  pleasant  fords,  and 
',  ,>x  the  crested  mountain  quail  skulks  over  the  ridge 
'  -  above  one's  head.  There  may  be  had  climbing  to 
_^-y^  suit  every  taste,  touching  extremes  of  chaotic  tan- 
gle of  chaparral  and  crag.  There  are  cliffs  over 
f?"  which  the  clear  mountain-water  tumbles  sheer  to 
great  depths;  notches  through  which  the  distant 
cones  of  the  highest  peaks  of  the  mother  range  may 
be  seen  in  whitest  ermine,  huge  pines  dotting  their 
drifts  like  petty  clumps  of  weed.  Under  foot,  too, 
on  the  northerly  slopes  is  snow  just  over  the  ridge 
from  where  the  sun  is  as  warm  and  the  air  as  gentle 
as  in  the  valley,  save  only  the  faintest  sense  of  added 
vigor  and  rarefaction.  So  near  do  these  extreines 
lie,  and  yet  so  effectually  separated,  you  may  thrust 
into  the  mouth  of  a  snow  man  a  rose  broken  from 
the  bush  an  hour  or  two  before,  and  pelt  him  with 
oranges  plucked  at  the  very  mouth  of  the  canyon. 
And  one  who  is  not  too  susceptible  may  comfort- 
ably linger  until  the  sun  has  set,  and  above  the 
lower  dusky  peaks  the  loftier  ones  glow  rose-pink  in 
the  light  of  its  aftershine,  until  the  moon  lights  the 
fissures  of  the  canvon  with  a  ghostly  radiance 
against  which  the  black  shadows  of  the  cliffs  fall 
like  ink-blots. 

Notwithstanding  the  rapid  settlement  of  South- 
ern California,  this  section  can  still  show  better 
fishing  and  hunting  during  the  winter  season  than 
almost  any  other  region  of  the  country.  VV^ith  the 
first  grass  that   follows  the  early  winter  rains  the 


174 


wild  duck  comes  down  from  his  northern  nursery 
to  bathe  in  the  warm  sunshine.  The  gHstening 
green  of  the  mallard's  neck  dots  the  water  of  the 
lagoon.  Duck-shooting  on  a  moonlight  night  is  a 
favorite  sport'.  With  the  mallard  come  the  canvas- 
back,  the  redhead,  the  sprigtail,  the  gadwell,  the 
widgeon,  the  spoonbill  and  the  delicate  little  teal. 
This  is  not  the  blue-winged  teal  of  the  Mississippi 
Valley,  or  the  green-wing  that  is  there  so  common, 
but  another  variety  of  green-wing,  of  about  the 
same  size  as  the  Eastern  bird,  and  with  equal 
swiftness  of  wing.  These  ducks,  and  some  others, 
are  found  in  great  abundance  during  the  winter 
season,  within  an  hour's  ride  of  Los  Angeles. 
There  are  great  flocks  of  the  Canada  goose, 
together  with  the  snow  goose.  They  feed  on  the 
alfilerilla  and  clover  of  the  plains  and  hills,  occa- 
sionally making  excursions  into  the  grain  fields. 
The  valley  quail  of  California  is  a  gamy  bird,  which 
has  become  somewhat  shy  since  guns  have  increased 
in  number.  Formerly  this  bird  was  so  abundant  that 
one  might  easily  obtain  as  big  a  bag  as  could  be  car- 
ried home,  without  a  dog;  but  now  a  good  bird  dog 
is  becoming  essential,  unless  the  sportsman  is  an 
expert,  or  goes  into  a  thinly  settled  region.  The 
little  brown  plover  makes  good  game  for  the  begin- 
ner during  the  greater  part  of  the  winter.  The 
mountain  pigeons  sometimes  come  down  in  flocks 
and  afiford  lively  shooting.  The  English  snipe  is 
found  on  some  of  the  meadows.  Among  the 
brush,   on  the    foothills,    cottontail   and    hare    are 

175 


plentiful,  in  seasons  of  normal  rainfall.  One  needs 
to  be  a  good  shot  to  make  a  bag  of  these  active 
little  animals.  Deer  are  becoming  scarce,  but  are 
still  brought  in  during  the  season.  The  Pacific 
Ocean  abounds  in  fish,  and  while  midwinter  is  not 
the  best  season,  there  is  often  good  fishing  along 
the  coast,  long  before  the  winter  is  over.  Among 
the  leading  members  of  the  finny  tribe  that  may  be 
counted  on  to  furnish  sport  are  tuna,  mackerel, 
yellow-tail,  barracuda  and  bonita.  Then,  among 
deep-water  fish,  are   the  rock  cod  and  the  redfish. 

Catalina  Island,  thirty  miles  from  the  main- 
land, is  a  noted  place  for  the  catching  of  big  fish 
with  rod  and  reel,  especially  the  gamy  tuna,  to 
which  sport  reference  has  been  made  on  a  preced- 
ing page.  There  are  also  found  the  monster 
"jewfish,"  weighing  sometimes  over  400  pounds. 
The  catches  frequently  made  by  fishermen  in  the 
Bay  of  Avalon,  within  a  few  hours,  are  so  remark- 
able as  to  challenge  the  credulity  of  Eastern  peo- 
ple, so  that  the  sportsman  usually  carries  home 
with  him  a  few  photographs,  as  an  ocular  demon- 
stration of  his  prowess.  In  the  spring  months 
trout  fishing  is  a  favorite  sport  all  along  the  streams 
of  the  Sierra  Madre  range,  within  a  few  hours' 
journey  of  Los  Angeles,  amid  wild  and  romantic 
scenery. 

The  grizzly  was  once  exceedingly  common.  One 
of  the  great  sports  of  the  old  mission  days  was  to 
hunt  the  grizzly  on  horseback  with  the  riata  for 
sole  weapon,  and  it  is  of  record  that  in  a  single 
176 


neighborhood  thirty  or  forty  of  these  formid-  i 

able    brutes  were    sometimes    captured  in  a     ^  s.        '''' 

night  by  roping,  precisely  as  a  modern  cowboy      y'^  ^ 

ropes  a  steer;  the  secret  of  the  sportsmen's        ■' 

immunity  lying  in  the  fact  that  the  bear  was 

almost  simultaneously  lassoed  from  different 

sides   and    in    that  manner  rigidly  pinioned. 

But    Ursus  horribilis  has  long  since  retreated 

to  deep  solitudes,  where  his  occasional  pursuers, 

far   from    approaching  him  with    a   rawhide 

noose,  go  armed  with  heavy  repeating  rifles, 

and    even    thus    equipped    are    not   eager  to 

encounter  him  at  very  close  range. 

Cricket  is  naturally  a  favorite  diversion 
among  the  many  young  Englishmen  who  have 
located  upon  ranches;  and  yachting,  polo  and  tennis 
do  not  want  for  devotees.  Golf  finds  many  devotees 
in  this  favored  land,  and  is  at  its  best  during  the 
winter.  Excellent  links  will  be  found  in  Los 
Angeles,  Pasadena,  Riverside,  Coronado,  San  Diego, 
Santa  Monica,  Santa  Catalina,  and  elsewhere. 

A  LAND  OF  FLOWERS. 

Nothing  is  more  delightful  and  astonishing  to 
visitors  in  California  than  the  wonderful  wealth  of 
flowers,  and  winter  and  early  spring  are  the  best 
time  to  witness  this  beautiful  exposition  of  nat- 
ural beauty.  Indeed,  these  are  the  only  seasons 
in  which  the  wild  flowers  may  be  seen  in  variety. 
Soon  after  the  first  rain  the  dull  brown  of  the  hills 
and  plains  is  supplanted  by  a  mantle  of  vivid  green, 

»9  177 


and  this,  later  in  the  season,  is  transformed  into  a 
carpet  of  variegated  hues.  The  most  rare  and  ten- 
der plants,  which  in  the  East  are  found  only  in 
hot-houses,  here  grow  rampant  in  the  gardens. 
The  size  to  which  some  of  these  plants  attain  is 
astonishing.  The  geranium  and  heliotrope  cover 
the  side  of  a  house,  and  two-story  buildings  are 
smothered  in  blossoms  from  a  single  rose-bush. 
The  mammoth  California  violet  has  acquired  a 
world-wide  reputation.  In  the  front  yard  of  the 
humblest  cottage  may  be  seen  the  brilliant  poin- 
settias,  luxuriant  passion  vines,  heliotrope,  bego- 
nias, and  calla-lilies,  together  with  waving  bananas, 
magnificent  palms  and  graceful  bamboos.  The 
calla-lily  and  tube-rose  are  planted  by  the  acre,  for 
the  market. 

Among  the  most  interesting  sights  of  Southern 
California  are  the  flower  carnivals,  held  at  regular 
intervals  in  Los  Angeles,  Santa  Barbara,  and  other 
cities,  where  may  be  seen  all  kinds  of  vehicles, 
from  a  bicycle  to  a  four-in-hand,  smothered  in 
fragrant  blossoms.  On  New  Year's  Day,  each 
year,  Pasadena  has  maintained  its  Tournament  of 
Roses,  and  established  a  reputation  for  the  most 
elaborate  festival  of  this  character. 

Flowering  trees  are  also  here  in  abundance, 
notable  among  which  are  varieties  of  the  eucalyptus, 
bearing  bunches  of  beautiful  white  blossoms.  At 
the  State  Experiment  Station,  near  Santa  Monica, 
are  over  one  hundred  varieties  of  this  tree.  The 
crepe  myrtle,  jacaranda,  magnolia,  acacia  and 
178 


Aos  Angeles 
Country  Club 


grevillia  are  also  represented  in  j^reat  numbers.  It 
is  not  a  constant  struggle  to  make  flowers  and 
plants  grow  in  California  throughout  the  year. 
Plenty  of  water  and  a  little  cultivation,  and  a  kindly 
nature  does  the  rest.  The  most  noted  of  the  wild 
flowers  which  make  the  country  a  blaze  of  glory  dur- 
ing the  later  winter  months  and  in  the  early  spring 
is  the  California  poppy,  which  has  been  burdened 
with  the  unromantic  name  of  escholtzia.  This  has 
been  made  the  State  flower.  The  hills  back  of 
Pasadena  are  a  blaze  of  gold  with  this  beautiful  wild 
flower,  in  the  early  spring,  and  on  a  clear  day  the 
flame  tint  may  be  clearly  discerned  from  the  ocean, 
thirty  miles  distant.  Another  beautiful  wild  flower, 
abundant  in  the  foothills  of  Southern  California,  is 
the  scarlet  larkspur,  a  flower  peculiar  to  this  State. 
There  is  a  commercial  side  to  flower  culture  in 
Southern  California.  Besides  supplying  the  local 
market,  florists  have  occasionally  made  shipments 
of  cut  flowers  to  the  East,  with  varying  success. 
At  Redondo,  Oceanside  and  Santa  Monica  may  be 
seen  several  acres  of  magnificent  carnations.  The 
growing  of  seeds  for  Eastern  dealers  is  a  profitable 
business.  One  enterprising  woman  at  San  Buena 
Ventura  has  made  a  great  success  in  growing  seeds 
and  developing  new  varieties.  There  have  been 
attempts  at  the  manufacture  of  perfumery  from 
flowers. 


*~«*-2%:  "i  -'■ 


■¥-'  -*y;^i  '■  "^^ 


V. 


CENTRAL  CALIFORNIA. 

/^ENTRAL  CALIFORNIA  comprises  that  part 
^-^  of  the  State  between  Tehachapi  Mountains 
and  San  Francisco.  Its  chief  feature  is  the  great 
San  Joaquin  Valley,  bordered  on  sunset  and  sunrise 
sides  by  the  Sierra  Nevada  and  coast  ranges. 

Going  from  Barstow  (junction  point  for  Southern 
California)  over  the  line  of  the  Santa  Fe  to  San 
Francisco,  the  desert  continues  as  far  as  Mojave. 
The  railroad  has  robbed  these  wastes  of  their  w^orst 
terrors.  Occasional  friendly  oases  mark  the  homes 
of  adventurous  settlers,  and  on  either  hand  scarred 
mountain-faces  proclaim  the  conquering  miner, 
•who,  seeking  gold,  is  undismayed  by  Nature's  for- 
bidding front.  Off  to  the  north  is  the  Randsburg 
mining  district,  reached  from  Kramer  Station.  But 
the  prevailing  note  is  that  of  silence  and  desolation. 

Beyond  Mojave  the  line  bears  northward.  The 
summit  of  Tehachapi  Range  is  achieved  by  a  series 
of  remarkable  loops  and  tunnels.  Tehachapi  Pass, 
with  its  limpid  streams,  shady  forests  and  cool  air, 
1 80 


is  in  pleasing  contrast  to  the  hot  Mojave  sands.'*    ^ 
The  altitude  is  nearly  4,000  feet,  with  steep  grades    ^.^^^.^'i.^^ 
that  are  only  surmounted   by  a  strong  and  steady    'St^^p 
pull.     Rapidly  descending,   the  imperial   San    Joa-  v>?>^-. 
quin    Valley,    32,000    square    miles    in    extent,    is 
entered  at  Bakersfield.     In  this  magnificent  basin, 
containing  ten  million  acres  of  arable  land,  products 
of  the  temperate,  semi-tropical  and  tropical  zones 
flourish  side   by  side.     Along  its  eastern  slope  are 
numerous  mines    and    dense  forests,  while    at   its 
southern    extremity  an    extensive    petroleum   field 
pours  rich  floods  from  a  thousand  throats. 

Through  this  valley  runs  the  Santa  Fe's  newest 
train,  the  luxurious  "Saint-Angel,"  between  San 
Diego,  Los  Angeles  and  San  Francisco — a  night  run 
both  ways,  for  the  most  part,  and  with  service 
equaling  that  of  any  "limited." 

The  pleasure-seeker  may  be  wooed  from  his 
Pullman  by  stories  of  the  wondrous  big  trees  that 
are  reached  by  stage  rides  from  either  Merced  or 
Visalia  stations ;  or  he  may  be  attracted  by  the 
scenic  beauties  of  lovely  Yosemite  (now  expedi- 
tiously reached  via  Merced  and  the  Yosemite 
Valley  Railroad),  and  the  wild  canyons  of  Kings 
and  Kern  rivers — these  latter  known  to  few 
travelers,     but    pronounced     indescribably     grand. 


A  San  Joaquin  Valley 
Vineyard 


Mount  Whitney,  the  king  of  the  California  Sierras, 
rises  higher  than  any  peak  in  the  United  States, 
exclusive  of  the  Alaskan  giants. 

The  business  man  will  be  allured  by  the  many 
opportunities  here  offered  for  successful  farming, 
manufacturing  and  trading.  This  vast  expanse 
constitutes  one-fifth  of  California's  total  area,  con- 
tains twelve  counties,  is  260  miles  long  by  60  to  90 
miles  wide,  and  is  nearly  as  large  as  Indiana. 

Steamers  ply  between  San  Francisco  and  Stock- 
ton; the  San  Joaquin  River  is  navigable  at  all  times 
for  a  considerable  distance,  especially  in  the  rainy 
season.  It  is  fed  by  many  tributary  streams,  such 
as  Kern,  Kings,  Merced,  Tuolumne,  and  Stanislaus 
rivers,  which  head  in  mountain  snows  and  furnish  — 
by  irrigation's  aid  —  abundant  water  for  crops. 
The  east  side  of  the  valley  is  a  network  of  main 
and  lateral  canals.  Abundant  crops  are  thus 
assured,  for  the  soil  only  needs  wetting  at  the  right 
times  to  yield  luxuriantly. 

Half  the  grain  grown  in  California  is  harvested 
along  the  San  Joaquin.  Wheat  farms  of  I0,000  to 
50,000  acres  are  not  uncommon.  On  these  big 
areas  wholesale  methods  are  imperative.  Large 
gang  plows,  operated  by  traction  engines,  arc 
employed.  Harvesting  is  accomplished  only  by  the 
aid  of  machines  drawn  by  as  many  as  thirty  horses, 
that  cut  and  thrash  the  grain,  delivering  it  in  sacks 
ready  for  shipment. 


Alfalfa,  the  favorite  forage  plant  of  California, 
grows  greenly  on  thousands  of  acres,  and  great 
cattle  ranches  contribute  their  quota  of  industrial 
wealth.  The  tendency  now  is  to  divide  these  big 
holdings  and  invite  settlement  by  small  farmers,  fruit- 
raisers,  and  cattlemen.  The  Laguna  deTache  grant, 
west  of  Fresno,  is  an  example  of  such  colonization. 

Raisin  and  wine  industries  center  at  Fresno, 
where  there  are  raisin-seeding  and  packing  plants, 
wineries  and  distilleries.  Fresno  County  alone  has 
40,000  acres  of  vineyards. 

Bakersfield,  Corcoran,  Tulare,  V^'salia,  Hanford, 
Fresno,  Merced  and  Stockton  are  the  principal 
cities  —  thriving  communities,  with  modern  busi- 
ness blocks,  tree-bowered  homes  and  public  build- 
ings worthy  of  cities  twice  their  size. 

Clustering  around  these  busy  centers  of  industry 
are  found  immense  orchards  of  prunes,  peaches, 
apricots,  figs,  and  other  fruits,  also  profitable  dairies. 

On  the  rich  river  bottom  lands,  near  Stockton, 
winter  vegetables  are  grown  for  the  Eastern  markets. 

More  than  a  million  persons  easily  could  be 
accommodated  on  the  rich  farming  lands  of  the  San 
Joaquin  Valley,  allowing  a  family  of  five  to  each 
forty-acre  tract.  Without  wishing  to  usurp  the 
prerogatives  of  the  real  estate  boomer,  one  may 
truthfully  aflirm  that  the  San  Joaquin  Valley  is  an 
ideal  place  for  the  man  who  wishes   to  begin  in  a 


[TSfSS^fS^^- 


moderate  way  and  surely  acquire  a  competence. 
Small  tracts  can  be  bought  at  reasonable  rates,  on 
time,  with  excellent  water  rights.  One  need  not 
wait  years  for  his  orchard  to  come  into  bearing. 
Here  the  Iowa  or  Illinois  or  Nebraska  farmer  has  no 
new  business  to  learn.  He  can  at  once  start  in 
raising  hogs  and  cattle,  wheat,  hay  and  garden 
truck,  and  make  the  farm  pay  from  the  start  — 
gradually  working  into  fruit,  as  a  side  issue  or  the 
main  support,  at  his  convenience. 

SAN  FRANCISCO. 

From  Ferry  Point  we  sight  San  Francisco,  the 
largest  city  on  the  Pacific  Coast  and  the  largest  in 
the  United  States  west  of  the  Mississippi.  By  day 
its  tall  buildings  rise  white  and  imposing.  At  night 
thousands  of  electric  lights  illumine  the  distance 
like  a  cluster  of  diamonds. 

Leaving  the  ferry  slip,  on  a  huge  Santa  Fe  ferry 
boat,  the  traveler  soon  is  out  on  the  bosom  of  the 
bay,  one  of  the  world's  premier  harbors — vast,  land- 
locked and  deep.  Angel  Island  is  first  glimpsed,  with 
its  Government  quarantine  and  recruiting  stations. 
The  island  is  one-and-a-half  miles  long,  its  crest  ris- 
ing 760  feet  from  the  water.  Alcatraz  Island,  where 
are  located  the  military  prison  and  lighthouse,  also  is 
to  the  right,  while  to  the  left  is  Oakland,  the  new 
metropolis  on  the  mainland.  To  the  north  is  Mare 
Island,  where  the  big  navy  yard  is  located.  Mount 
Diablo  seems  to  rise  close  to  the  Suisun  shore,  and 


Mount  Tamalpais'  sharp  peak 
dominates  the  horizon.  After 
passing  Alcatraz,  the  Golden 
Gate  bursts  upon  our  vision. 
This  name  was  given  by  Fre- 
mont, in  1848,  to  the  straits 
between  bay  and  ocean,  a  tide- 
way passage  separating  two  peninsulas.  Smoke 
wreaths  of  incoming  steamers  show  above  the  hori- 
zon. Transpacific  vessels  pass  on  their  voyage  to 
the  Far  East,  while  the  white-painted  vessels  of  the 
United  States  transport  service  lazily  ride  at  anchor. 
On  the  high  northern  bluffs  are  the  guns  of  a  heavy 
battery  of  12-inch  rities,  making  it  the  Gibraltar  of 
America. 

Few  bays  in  the  world  ofifer  such  a  panorama. 
None,  save  that  of  Naples,  is  so  beautiful.  The 
Italian  fisher  boats  —  feluccas,  they  are  called — 
dot  this  western  bay,  too.  It  is  easy  to  imagine  that 
one  is  cruising,  along  the  Mediterranean  or  the 
Adriatic.  San  Francisco  Bay  was  discovered  in  1769 
by  a  Spanish  land  expedition.  The  first  ship  entered 
the  harbor  in  1775,  a  mere  dot  on  a  quiet  stretch  of 
water  seventy  miles  long  and  from  five  to  fifteen 
miles  wide. 

The  chief  characteristic  of  San  Francisco  is  its 
cosmopolitanism.  Many  races,  and  many  types  of 
the   American   race,   have  contributed  their  quota. 


W    \X'l 


The  Santa  Fe 
Ferry 


'^'■'<^:.-, 


?- -  i,|is---^>s        .   -^ 


Co 


Here,  away  back  in  1776,  the  Franciscan  fathers 
founded  the  Mission  de  los  Dolores  de  Nuestra 
Padre  San  Francisco  de  Asis,  the  sixth  mission 
established  in  upper  California  by  Father  Junipero 
Serra;  but  the  actual  settlement  was  more  recent, 
in  1835,  and  known  as  Yerba  Buena  trading  post. 

The  Santa  Fe  makes  its  entry  into  this  modern 
metropolis  of  500,000  inhabitants  through  the  high- 
towered  union  ferry  station.  Besides  serving  as  a 
depot,  here  also  is  a  remarkable  museum  of  the 
resources  of  California. 

After  the  era  of  the  Franciscans  —  a  time  of  peace 
and  idealism  —  San  Francisco  passed  into  a  turmoil 
of  the  age  of  gold  —  the  rough  and  ready  days  of  the 
forty-niners,   meanwhile   changed  from  Spanish   to 
Mexican  rule  and  subsequently  ceded  to  the  United 
States.     This    strenuous   period    of  the    argonauts 
and  their  golden  fleece  was  followed  by  comparative 
quiet.      Then    came    the    War    of    the    Rebellion. 
The    war   over,   the  town   lapsed 
into  a  humdrum  state,  only  to  be 
awakened  by  sandlot  riots  and  the 
advent  of  a  transcontinental  rail-  r|  ,  , 

road.     Finally    came  the    quick  Jj 

growth   ending  with  to-day's   half  /?: 

a    million,  the   great   fire    being  a        .^,^' 
painful  interlude.  .^\ 

Rome,  set  upon  her  seven  hills, 
has  not  had  a  more  eventful  history. 
Oddly  enough,  though  gold  was  at 
the  basis   of    its   growth,  the    big 

187 


r   t 

r  ■• 


iiiii 


Markit  Sirtit.  San  Fraiw 


k-^^V? 


values  to-day  come  from  cattle,  wool,  cereals,  fruits, 
sugar  and  wines. 

Picturesque  and  wholly  charming  the  old  San 
Francisco  certainly  was,  a  romantic  note  in  story, 
art  and  song.  And  the  San  Francisco  spirit  has  been 
breathed  into  much  of  the  world's  most  fascinating 
literature.  While  many  of  the  quaint  abodes  of 
Bohemianism  were  wiped  out  by  the  calamity  of 
1906,  the  essential  spirit  has  not  been  changed. 

To  that  old  gaiety  and  picturesqueness  is  now 
added  a  mature  beauty  which  the  old  city  at  its  best 
never  had. 

Immediately  after  the  great  fire  many  of  San  Fran- 
cisco's citizens  proposed  that  the  new  metropolis  be 
built  upon  lines  of  classic  beauty.  But  the  impera- 
tive necessity  of  immediately  rehousing  the  homeless 
multitude  and  of  rehabilitating  nearly  every  business 
enterprise,  forbade  carrying  out  these  ambitious 
projects  at   that   time. 

Now,  however,  rebuilt  and  prosperous,  the  city 
has  taken  the  matter  up  definitely,  with  the  result 
that  about  $9,000,000  has  been  voted  as  the  initial 
step  in  perfecting  a  civic  center. 

Several  blocks  are  to  be  taken  near  Golden  Gate 
avenue  and  Market  street.  One  of  the  salient 
points  in  the  group  of  buildings  to  be  placed  about 
the  boundaries  of  this  open  park  will  be  a  new  city 
hall,  to  cost  $4,500,000.  Here  will  be  erected,  also, 
a  niassive  auditorium,  besides  many  other  edifices  of 
a  public  character.       Incidental  to  this   ambitious 


I 


scheme  is  the  building  of  many  miles  of  boulevards. 
San  Francisco's  main  artery  is  Market  street. 
From  this  wide  thoroughfare  radiate  streets  in 
every  direction.  By  transfer  one  may  reach  almost 
any  part  of  the  metropolis. 

This  alluring  city  of  the  Golden  Gate  comfort- 
ably can  accommodate  a  hundred  thousand  visitors 
in  a  thousand  hotels  of  every  grade  and  nationality. 
Its  restaurants  are  as  famous  as  those  of  Paris. 
One  may  w^ander  away  from  the  exclusive  inns  of 
the  downtown  district  —  like  the  St.  Francis,  the 
Fairmont  and  the  Palace  —  to  the  foreign  quarters, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  revel  in  the  cooking  of  an  Italian 
cuisinier  or  sit  down  to  a  repast  prepared  by  a  chef 
from  Budapest.  Even  the  names  are  whimsical  — 
Poodle  Dog  and  Pig'n  Whistle  being  typical.  Here 
the  American  has  made  way  for  the  swarth  Slavon- 
ian, the  yellow  Chinese  and  the  suave  Frenchman. 
Mexican  and  Spanish  types  also  are  found. 

While  Bohemianism  is  a  cult,  San  Francisco  has 
the  commercial  spirit,  too.  Commerce  over  seas 
vies  with  the  vast  inland  trade.  Its  docks  fly  the 
flags  of  all  nations.  Its  products  are  shipped  to 
every  port  the  world  over.  The  tonnage  rapidly  is 
increasing,  with  jumps  of  a  million  tons  yearly. 
When  the  water-front  is  fully  developed  the  length 
will  exceed  thirty-five  miles.  The  bank  clearings 
approximate  $50,000,000  a  week,  there  being  forty- 
eight  banks  with  a  capital  and  surplus  exceeding 
$80,000,000. 


189 


Music  Stand, 
Golden  Gate  Park 


M 


San  Francisco's  parks  are  thirtv-tvvo  in  number, 
ranging  from  tiny  Portsmouth  Square,  on  the  edge 
of  Chinatown,  where  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  used 
to  sun  himself,  to  mammoth  Golden  Gate  Park, 
which  extends  three  and  a  half  miles  from  the  city's 
center  to  the  Pacific  surf.  Unchecked  by  frosts, 
grass  grows  green  the  year  'round.  Here  may  be 
seen  antelope,  deer,  bear,  bufifalo,  elk,  kangaroo  and 
moose,  all  living  in  domesticated  contentment. 
Historical  art  is  represented  by  monuments  to 
Burns,  Key,  Serra,  Grant,  Garfield,  Halleck, 
McKinley  and  other  notables.  The  museum  build- 
ing is  a  memorial  of  the  midwinter  fair  of  1895. 

From  the  Cliff  House,  on  the  ocean  front,  may 
be  seen  the  sea-lions,  on  Seal  Rock,  and  the  Sutro 
salt  water  baths.  The  city  itself  now  extends  far 
beyond  the  limits  of  Golden  Gate  Park, 

The  club  life  of  San  Francisco  is  another  inter- 
esting feature.  Possibly  the  Bohemian  club  is  the 
widest  known,  because  of  its  literary  and  artistic 
membership,  and  the  unique  entertainments  given, 
such  as  the  Midsummer  Jinks  on  Russian  River. 
The  Pacific-Union,  which  is  the  oldest  of  the  men's 
social  clubs,  occupies  the  old  Flood  mansion  on 
Nob  Hill. 

Always  famous  for  its  theatres,  when  the  projected 
municipal  opera  house  in  the  civic  center  is  finished, 
the  long  seasons  of  grand  opera  will  have  a  fitting 
home. 

The  presidio,  largest  of  Uncle  Sam's  military 
headquarters  on  the  Pacific  slope,  extends  along  the 
191 


Court  of  Palms,  Panama-Pacific  Exposition. 


northern  extremity  of  the  peninsula,  adjoining  the 
main  Panama-Pacific  exposition  site.  Forts  Baker, 
Barry,  Mason,  McDowell,  and  Miley  guard  the 
city  from  attack  by  land  or  sea. 

Chinatown  still  exists,  a  quaint  Oriental  note  on 
the  edge  of  the  down-town  district.  It  is  as  if  a 
bit  of  Cantonese  life  had  been  set  down  in  modern 
America.  The  eight  thousand  residents  of  the 
Chinese  quarter  have  their  own  newspapers  and 
banks ;  but  it  is  in  their  shops  and  joss  houses 
that  the  visitor  will  find  the  most  entertainment. 
Two  solid  blocks  on  Grant  Avenue  are  lined  with 
bazaars,  each  a  museum  of  Chinese  art.  The 
northern  extremity  of  Chinatown  merges  into  the 
Italian  quarter. 

PANAMA-PACIFIC  INTERNATIONAL 
EXPOSITION. 

The  opening  of  the  Panama  Canal  will  change 
some  of  the  currents  of  commerce  and  increase  San 
Francisco's  ocean  trade.  The  many  miles  of  dock- 
age, along  the  shores  of  San  Francisco  Bay,  soon 
are  to  be  occupied  by  big  liners  from  all  over  the 
world.  Thus  having  easy  and  cheap  access  to  raw 
materials  everywhere,  and  with  inexhaustible  quan- 
tities of  cheap  fuel  oil  close  at  hand,  her  growth  as 
a  manufacturing  center  is  assured. 

The  Panama-Pacific  International  Exposition 
will  be  held  here  from  February  20  to  December  4, 
1915,  to  celebrate  the  completion  and  formal  open- 
ing of  the  Panama  Canal  —  a  vision  of  ivory  and 

13  193 


gold,  covering  625  acres,  with 
a  frontage  of  three  miles  on  the 
northern  shore  line  of  the  penin- 
sula and  enclosed  on  three  sides 
by  abruptly  rising  ground. 

This  undertaking  will  require 
an  expenditure  of  fifty  million 
dollars.  Much  of  this  amount 
is  to  be  so  spent  that  while  it 
will  all  contribute  to  the  beauty 
of  that  ephemeral  wonder  city 
by  the  Golden  Gate,  it  will 
survive  the  closing  of  the 
Exposition  and  remain  as  a 
permanent  part  of  the  San 
Francisco  that  is  to  be. 
Triumphal  Arch  ^nder  this  plan  it  is  proposed 

practically  to  surround  and  gridiron  the  city  with  a 
system  of  wide  boulevards,  which  will  border  the 
water  sides  of  the  city — the  Bay,  the  Golden  Gate 
and  the  open  ocean. 

The  exposition  grounds  are  situated  between  the 
presidio  and  the  Italian  quarter,  locally  known  as 
North  Beach. 

The  National  Government  is  planning  to  spend 
nearly  two  million  dollars  on  its  exhibit,  which  will 
be  staged  upon  a  ten-acre  field.  Here  will  be 
exemplified  the  building  of  the  Panama  Canal, 
sanitation,  general  engineering,  fisheries  and  light- 
house service. 

There  will  be  thirteen  exhibit  palaces,  including 
194 


J 


Festival  Hall,  with  an  area  of  3,730,000  square  feet. 
Fifty  acres  will  be  devoted  to  a  horticultural  display, 
forty  acres  to  state  buildings  and  thirty-five  acres 
to  foreign  buildings.  The  main  edifices  will  be 
centrally  grouped,  in  a  series  of  quadrangles, 
connected  by  arcades  and  courts.  The  western 
court,  with  its  Moorish  arches,  will  remind  one  of 
the  Alhambra;  the  eastern  court  will  be  Oriental 
in  design.  The  northern  facade  will  front  San 
Francisco  Bay.  Along  this  waterfront  is  the 
Marina,  a  great  marine  esplanade  with  gardens 
and  terraces,  beautified  by  fountains  and  statuary. 
There  will  be  naval  reviews,  displays  and  maneu- 
vers galore.  In  the  Bay  alone  is  abundant  sea  room 
in  which  to  assemble  the  combined  fleets  of  all 
nations,  a  superb  spectacle.  A  varied  program  of 
spectacular  events  is  assured.  The  international 
military  tournament,  participated  in  by  foreign 
troops,  also  American  militia  and  regulars  —  nearly 
forty  thousand  men — ^will  last 
all  summer.  Aviation  and  ath- 
letic meets,  boat  and  auto  races, 
and  a  song  festival,  are  other 
attractions.  American  art  will 
receive  a  new  impetus,  and 
up-to-date  educational  displays 
will  be  a  prominent  feature.  By 
day  the  ivory  buff  walls  of  the 
buildings,  with  their  red-tiled 
roofs,  green  domes  and  splashes 
of  blue  and  gold,  will  be  a  color 

195 


h 


Toiver  of  Administration  Building 


revelation.  At  night  it  will  be  an  electric  fairyland, 
with  striking  effects  never  before  used. 

At  the  foot  of  Market  street,  where  the  ferry 
system  pours  out  its  flood  of  passengers,  and  where 
travelers  over  the  Santa  Fe  are  landed  after  an  all- 
too-short  ferry  ride  over  the  waters  of  the  Bay  from 
Richmond,  the  gate  of  the  Exposition  City  will 
open  to  its  guests.  Market  street,  San  Francisco's 
main  thoroughfare,  is  one  hundred  and  twenty  feet 
wide.  For  a  distance  of  over  two  miles  this  street, 
lined  with  tall  buildings  and  at  night  blazing  with 
lights,  will  be  an  avenue  of  triumph, 

Zeppelin  dirigibles  will  be  on  exhibition,  carrying 
passengers  on  daily  trips  for  hundreds  of  miles. 

Other  world's  fairs  have  had  their  midways  under 
different  names.  None  of  these  lanes  of  laughter, 
down  which  the  revelers  of  past  expositions  have 
strayed,  has  had  such  ideal  surroundings  or  a  wider 
field  from  which  to  garner  all  that  is  quaint,  pictur- 
esque, laughable,  sensational  and  educative. 

A  concession  has  been  granted  the  Santa  Fe  for 
five  acres  of  ground,  on  which  will  be  built  a  replica 
of  the  Grand  Canyon  of  Arizona,  with  a  Pueblo 
Indian  village.  The  observer  will  ride  along  the 
rim  in  electric  cars.  Parties  will  be  seen  going  up 
and  down  the  trails,  while  the  rainbow  tints  of  the 
canyon  itself,  as  well  as  the  immense  reaches  and 
titanic  forms,  will  be  worked  out  in  a  realistic 
manner.  It  is  the  most  expensive  and  startling 
scenic  spectacle  ever  staged  at  any  world's  fair. 


196 


OAKLAND. 

Suffering  somewhat  in  prestige 
by  having  been  considered  for  many 
years  as  a  suburb  of  San  Francisco, 
Oakland  recently  has  been  assert- 
ing its  own  individuality.    Probably 
no  city  on   the   Pacific  coast   has 
made  more  marked  progress  in  the 
last  five  years.    With  a  population 
now   of   about    one  hundred  and 
sixty    thousand,    Oakland    has 
become  distinctly  urban,  with  a 
clearing-house  of  its  own,  large 
and  numerous  banking  houses, 
hotels,  theatres,  cafes  and  public 
buildings.     It  has  had  a  won- 
derful development  in  the  last 


AVoy  Municipal  Building.  Oakland 
few  years,  with  assurance  of  a  prosperous  future. 

Resting  in  the  amphitheatre  formed  bythe  Sierran 
foothills  back  of  it,  with  the  Bay  on  its  front,  the 
peninsula  of  San  Francisco  four  miles  due  west, 
and  a  landlocked  harbor  six  miles  in  length  on  its 
southern  side,  its  location  is  commercially  most  for- 
tunate. Its  eastern  shore  has  fifteen  miles  of  water 
front,  while  Oakland  Estuary  and  the  basin  lying 
at  its  head  is  suited  for  shipping  of  larger  draft. 
Manufacturing  interests  are  moving  up  the  eastern 
shore  of  the  Bay;  the  room,  the  small  cost  of 
ground,  close  touch  with  overland  railway,  ship  and 
factory  appealing  to  manufacturers. 

While  still  keeping  its  residential  charm,  lately 


197 


Oakland  has  become  one  of  the  most  important 
business  centers  of  the  Pacific  Coast.  The  topog- 
raphy of  the  city  makes  natural  the  separation  of 
residence  and  business  sections.  It  is  built  upon 
an  almost  level  plain  that  slopes  gradually  from  the 
Bay  to  the  foothills  of  the  Contra  Costas.  The 
two  miles  or  so  of  this  plain  have  been  built  over 
with  factories  and  warehouses,  near  the  water- 
front ;  then  comes  the  retail  district.  The  better 
class  of  residences  occupy  the  nearer  slopes  of  the 
hills.  These  hills,  extending  through  the  whole 
East  Bay  section  for  a  dozen  miles  back  of  the 
growing  cities  which  make  up  the  Oakland  district, 
have  become  the  sites  of  country  villas. 

From  the  heart  of  Oakland's  business  district 
the  terraced  ridges  of  the  Contra  Costa  hills  are 
in  plain  view,  green  with  trees  and  grass  and 
dotted  with  dwellings.  A  fifteen-minute  street- 
car   ride    takes    one    from    factories    and   business 


Berkely    Cs.hl- 


Sania  Fe  Station,  (^a/ctaiid 


blocks  to  green-clad  heights  with  their  scenic  drives 
of  varied  beauty. 

Hotel  Oakland  occupies  two  acres  in  heart  of 
city.  Completed  recently  at  a  cost  of  two  million 
dollars,  it  is  one  of  the  finest  metropolitan  hotels 
on  the  Coast. 

Oakland  has  a  frontage  on  San  Francisco  Bay 
of  thirty  miles.  Six  miles  of  this  is  occupied  by 
wharves  or  included  in  municipal  plans  for  further 
improvement.  To  this  add  about  four  miles  of 
prospective  landlocked  deep-water  dockage  in  what 
is  known  as  the  inner  harbor  or  estuary.  Approxi- 
mately twenty  millions  of  dollars  have  been  expended 
on  this  enterprise.  In  1911  over  four  million  tons  of 
freight  were  handled  over  the  wharves  of  Oakland's 
water  front. 

Piedmont  Park,  in  the  Piedmont  Hills  section; 
Lake  Merritt,  in  the  heart  of  the  residence  district, 


<W>  5    !»    ill 

Hotel  Oakland 


i 


and  Idora  Park,  near  the  northern  line  of  the  city, 
provide  outdoor  pleasure. 

Immediately  north  of  Oakland  lies  Berkeley, 
the  rapid  growth  of  both  having  practically  erased 
the  dividing  lines.  This  lovely  town,  sloping  up 
from  the  water  front  and  crowning  the  Berkeley 
hills  with  gardens,  groves  and  villas,  is  the  home  of 
California's  State  university,  set  in  a  campus  of 
great  natural  beauty.  In  an  amphitheatre  on  this 
campus,  surrounded  by  a  grove  of  trees,  is  the 
Greek  Theatre,  known  the  world  over  for  its 
revivals  of  old  Greek  tragedies  here  staged  by  some 
of  the  world's  most  celebrated  artists.  More  mod- 
ern spectacles  are  produced,  too,  on  gigantic  scale. 

From  no  point  are  finer  views  to  be  had  of  the 
wide  sweep  of  San  Francisco's  harbor  than  from 
the  hills  immediately  back  of  the  University 
campus,  and  from  those  farther  north,  and  there 
are  few  more  inspiring  panoramas.  Away  to  the 
north  are  the  outlines  of  the  giant  Sierras;  in  the 
immediate  foreground,  Mount  Tamalpais,  the 
Golden  Gate,  San  Francisco  and  the  peaks  behind 
it  ;  below,  far  to  the  south,  Berkeley,  Oakland, 
Alameda  ;  and  still  beyond,  the  shining  waters  of 
the  Bay  and  the  Coast  Range  peaks. 

Berkeley,  with  only  about  18,000  people  in  1900, 
had  increased  to  more  than  40,000  in  1910,  and 
now  is  well  on  toward  the  50,000  mark. 

Richmond,  a  thriving  town  of  ten  thousand 
population  and  a  terminal  of  the  Santa  Fe,  has 
grown   with   mushroom   rapidity.     It  is  the  home 


of  the  refineries  of  the  Standard  Oil  Company,  of 
the  PuUnian  plant,  and  a  host  of  other  manu- 
facturing industries. 

For  only  a  dollar  one  may  take  the  Key  Route 
trolley  trip — a  sixty-mile  ride  in  special  electric 
cars  from  San  Francisco  (by  ferry)  and  Oakland 
along  the  eastern  shore  of  San  Francisco  Bay — 
under  personal  escort,  including  admission  to  recre- 
ation parks,  art  galleries  and  other  attractions.  A 
day  can  be  spent  very  pleasantly  on  this  popular 
sight-seeing  tour. 


SUBURBAN  SAN  FRANCISCO. 

Suburban  San  Francisco  embraces  much  of  inter- 
est. One  of  its  chief  charms  is  its  infinite  variety. 
Here  one  may  enjoy  the  commanding  views  fur- 
nished by  the  highlands  and  the  cosiness  of  the 
valleys.  Many  good  country  clubs  play  a  large 
part  in  the  lives  of  the  residents. 

The  bay  shore  cities  of  Berkeley,  Oakland 
and  Alameda  (housing  a  population  one-half  as 
great  as  San  Francisco's  normal  number),  are  in 
turn  neighbored  by  pretty  suburbs.  On  the  heights 
above  Oakland  is  the  home  of  Joaquin  Miller, 
farther  south  Mills  College,  delightfully  environed, 
and  several  charming  picnic  parks  —  among  them 
Piedmont  Springs  and  Leona  Heights. 


On  the  Marin  County  shore,  beyond  the  Golden 
Gate,  are  Sausah'to  and  Mill  Valley,  through  which 
a  winding  scenic  railway  is  built  to  the  half-mile 
high  summit  of  Mount  Tamalpais,  from  whence 
one  may  view  the  entire  bay  region.  The  trip  is 
similar  to  the  climb  up  Mount  Lowe,  near  Los 
Angeles.  Farther  inland  is  the  charming  residence 
suburb  of  San  Rafael. 

To  the  south,  along  the  peninsula,  one  comes 
upon  the  homes  of  some  of  California's  million- 
aires, at  Burlingame,  of  polo  repute,  Milbrae,  and 
San  Mateo,  while  below  the  junction  of  San  Fran- 
cisco's peninsula  with  the  mainland  the  Santa 
Clara  Valley  stretches  southward  between  the  Coast 
and  Santa  Cruz  ranges.  Along  this  valley  lies  the 
way  to  San  Jose  and  the  coast  resorts  of  Santa 
Cruz  and  Monterey,  with  intermediate  points  of 
celebrity. 

Palo  Alto  is  the  site  of  the  Stanford  University, 
where,  in  a  campus  of  8,000  acres,  an  arboretum  to 
which  every  clime  has  liberally  contributed,  stands 
this  magnificent  memorial  of  a  cherished  son.  The 
buildings  are  conceived  in  the  style  of  mission  archi- 
tecture —  low  structures  connected  by  an  arcade 
surrounding  an  immense  inner  court,  with  plain, 
thick  walls,  arches  and  columns,  built  of  hufi  sand- 
stone and  roofed  with  red  tiles. 

Hard' by,  at  Menlo  Park,  is  the  Stanford  horse 
breeding  and  training  establishment,  where  hun- 
dreds of  thoroughbreds  are  carefully  tended  in 
paddock  and  stable,  and  daily  trained. 


A  PACIFIC  TOUR. 


Along  the  great  San  Francisco  water  front,  with 
its  masts  and  spars,  flapping  sails  and  ship  chan- 
dlery stores,  the  very  spirit  of  roving  and  adventure 
is  in  the  air.  A  stroll  here  will  impress  the  visitor 
with  the  city's  wonderful  future  possibilities.  The 
dream  that  along  San  Francisco  Bay  will  be  built  n 
world-city  bids  fair  to  become  a  reality. 

Here  one  may  observe  the  big  four-masters,  laden 
with  wheat  brought  around  Cape  Horn.  A  rakish 
brig  unloads  a  cargo  of  copra  and  sandalwood,  which 
tells  of  the  scented  groves  of  south  Pacific  islanc's. 
Over  3'onder  are  big  bunkers,  with  sooty  workmen 
and  busy  engines,  straining  at  coal  buckets.  Farther 
on  is  a  party  of  gold-seekers,  bound  for  the  Alaskan 
fields.  Other  steamers  are  taking  on  passengers  and 
freight  for  lower  California,  Panama  and  Mexico,  or 
for  the  far-off  countries  of  the  Orient.  Japanese, 
Chinese  and  Koreans  mingle  with  the  throng. 
A  patriotic  bit  of  color  is  displayed  where  soldiers 
just  back  from  the  Philippines  are  disembarking. 
And  when  evening  comes  on,  the  deep-sea  chants 
rise  above  the  city's  roar  as  anchors  are  lifted. 
One  then  keenly  feels  the  call  of  the  sea.  The 
g_*nius  of  Stevenson  has  woven  a  halo  of  romance 
over  these  semi-tropical  seas  that  woos  the 
traveler  with  well-nigh  irresistible  charm. 
As  you  look  westward  out  of  the 
nation's  front   door  from   the 


203 


Cliff  House  headland  height,  it  would  be  strange, 
indeed,  if  you  were  not  seized  with  a  longing  to 
set  sail. 

Where  will  you  go  —  since  go  you  must  ? 

To  Hawaii  ?  Magical  isles,  wreathed  in  flowers 
and  laved  by  flashing  summer  seas  ;  land  of  banana 
plantations,  cane  and  rice  fields  ;  land  of  roaring 
volcanoes  and  verdant  plains. 

To  Samoa  ?  Coral  shores  under  the  Stars  and 
Stripes  ;  happy  natives,  cocoanut  palms  and  delicious 
tropical  fruit,  transparent  seas  and  beautiful  shells. 

To  Tahiti  ?  Riotous  vegetation,  the  supple 
bamboo,  broad-leaved  banana  and  lance-leaved 
mango  ;  an  out-of-doors  country,  where  houses  are 
used  only  to  sleep  in. 

To  New  Zealand  ?  Newest  England,  as  it  has 
been  fittingly  called ;  half  round  the  world,  but 
nearer  than  many  of  you  have  thought ;  the  famous 
west  coast   sounds,  rivaling  the  fiords  of  Norway. 

To  Australia  ?  A  partly  explored  continent  of 
vast  and  varied  resources  ;  wonderful  cities,  strange 
races,  and  strange  flora  and  fauna,  kangaroos  and 
paroquets,  cockatoos  and  pouched  bears. 

Which  one,  or  all  of  them  ? 

It  can  not  be  decided  for  you  here.  Indeed,  the 
purpose  of  these  brief  pages  is  only  suggestive,  to 
point  the  way  and  tell  you  of  the  excellent  facilities 
for  travel.  Other  publications  will  tell  you  more  in 
detail  of  the  attractions,  and  they  may  be  had  for 
the  asking  from  agents  of  the  Santa  Fe.  One 
rare   trip  outlined  therein   is   around  the  world  via 


-Sffi 


San  Francisco,  Hawaii,  Samoa,  New  Zealand,  Aus- 
tralian ports,  India,  Suez,  the  Mediterranean, 
Continental  Europe,  England,  Atlantic  liners,  and 
United  States  railways. 

The  Union  Steamship  Co.  of  New  Zealand 
runs  a  monthly  boat  from  San  Francisco  to  Sydney, 
Australia,  via  Papeete,  Raratonga  and  Wellington. 
Return  can  be  made  via  Suva  or  Hong  Kong  and 
Honolulu.  Their  steamers  (theAorangi,  Manuka 
and  Tahiti)  are  8,ooo  to  i2,ooo  tons  displacement, 
and  are  fitted  with  the  most  modern  appliances  for 
speed,  safety  and  comfort.  Connections  arc  made 
for  the  islands  of  the  Pacific  and  for  the  Orient. 

The  Oceanic  Steamship  Co.  (Spreclcels  Line) 
has  established  new  service  to  Sydney,  Australia. 
Steamers,  of  I0,000  tons  displacement,  sail  from 
San  Francisco  every  four  weeks.  The  voyage 
consumes  nineteen  days,  including  stops  for 
Hawaiian  Islands  and  Samoa.  These  boats  are 
especially  fitted  for  tropical  voyaging,  with  large 
and  well  ventilated  cabins.  The  Oceanic  S.  S.  Co. 
still  has  fast  passenger  service  to  Honolulu,  Hawaii, 
with  sailings  every  two  weeks. 

Luxurious  steamers  of  the  Pacific  Mail  and 
Toyo  Risen  Kaisha  lines  may  be  taken  from  San 
Francisco  on  a  straightaway  cruise  to  Yokohama, 
and  thence  to  Hong  Kong.  By  this  route  both 
China  and  Japan  may  be  visited,  including  a  run 
down  to  our  new  possessions  in  the  Philippines. 
The  steamers  are  all  swift,  commodious  and  sea- 
worthy. 

205 


COAST  LINE  TO  SAN  FRANCISCO. 

The  coast  route  northward  from  Los  Angeles 
by  rail  has  many  notable  attractions,  chief  of  which 
are  Santa  Barbara  (page  169),  Monterey  and 
San  Jose.  The  two  last  namsd  may  be  conve- 
niently visited  by  a  short  ride  from  San  Francisco 
and  the  first  from  Los  Angeles. 

The  traveler  who  elects  to  follow  the  coast  in 
his  journey  to  the  Golden  Gate  will  be  taken 
northward  and  then  west  to  the  sea  at  San  Buena 
Ventura.  On  the  way  San  Fernando  (near  which 
are  the  ruins  of  the  San  Fernando  Mission)  is 
passed  and  a  considerable  oil  district  in  the  vicinity 
of  Newhall  and  Santa  Paula  ;  also  Oxnard  and  its 
big  beet  sugar  factory,  producing  75,000,000 
pounds  of  sugar  annually. 

At  San  Buena  Ventura  is  another  mission  estab- 
lishment surrounded  by  luxuriant  orchards  of 
deciduous  fruits  and  vast  lima  bean  fields,  the 
product  of  which  reaches  far-away  Boston. 

Beyond  San  Buena  Ventura  the  winding  coast 
lip -3  is  closely  followed  for  a  hundred  miles  or  more 
to  and  through  Santa  Barbara,  until  crossing  the 
mountains  it  leads  down  into  the  Salinas  Valley,  a 
mfuntain-walled,  oak-dotted  park,  the  northern 
end  of  which  merges  in  the  far-famed  Santa  Clara 
Vdley  of  the  north. 

From  the  gray-brown  bluffs  and  rounded  hills, 
lor  the   hundred   or  so   miles  bv  the  sea,  but  little 


206 


hint  is  given  of  the  fertile  interior;  but  a  continu- 
ous marine  panorama  of  wave-washed  shore  is 
unfolded,  with  a  far-reaching  ocean  view  bounded 
by  the  Channel  Islands. 

Wayside  items  are  the  asphaltum  pits  and  ocean 
oil-wells  at  Summerland,  the  mammoth  eucalyptus 
trees  and  great  olive  orchards  at  Ellwood  in  the 
Goleta  Valley,  the  asphaltum  works  at  Alcatraz 
Landing,  and  the  mouth  of  historic  Gaviota  Pass. 
There  are  picturesque  ranch  houses  of  the  old 
days,  also  herds  of  grazing  cattle  and  sheep,  vast 
fields  of  grain  and  mustard  and  sugar  beets,  the 
largest  vegetable  and  flower  seed  farms  in  the 
world,  and  many  other  features,  each  adding  inter- 
est to  the  journey,  but  which  must  be  considered 
minor  attractions  where  so  much  is  worthy. 

San  Luis  Obispo  is  a  city  of  four  thousand  popu- 
lation, the  business  center  of  a  rich  valley.  The 
mountains  overshadow  it.  The  church  of  the  old 
mission  of  San  Luis  Obispo  is  here. 

Northward  from  San  Luis  a  climb  over  a  spur  of 
the  Santa  Lucia  Mountains,  with  numerous  curves 
in  the  track,  presents  from  the  car  window  a  bird's- 
eye  view  of  the  city  and  fertile  valley  in  which  it  Hjs. 

Paso  Robles  (pass  of  the  oaks)  is  a  place  of 
wonderful  mineral  springs  with  a  fine  hotel  and 
bathhouses.  Not  far  away  is  Santa  \sabel  ranch, 
and  Hot  Springs.  Salinas  is  a  town  of  growing 
importance.  Near  it  is  the  great  Spreckels  beet 
sugar  factory,  one  of  the  largest  in  the  world. 


-.'iflCt^'^^'iS^ 


Ajv'J  Knbhs  Ilotil 


A  slight  divergence  from  the  main  line  at  Cas- 
troville  will  bring  you  to  Hotel  del  Monte  and  the 
famous  old  town  of  Monterey,  on  the  southern 
shore  of  Monterey  Bay. 

Monterey  was  the  old  capital  of  California  in  the 
earliest  period  of  Spanish  rule.  Here  the  forest 
crowds  upon  the  sea  and  mingles  its  odor  of  balm 
with  that  of  the  brine.  The  beach  that  divides 
them  is  broken  by  cliffs  where  the  cypress  finds 
footing,  and  in  the  gentle  air  of  a  perfect  climate 
the  wild  flowers  bloom  profusely.  Upon  such  a 
foundation  the  Hotel  del  Monte,  with  its  vast 
parks  of  lawn  and  garden  and  driveway,  covering 
many  hundred  acres,  is  set,  all  its  magnificence 
lending  really  less  than  it  owes  to  the  infinite  charm 
of  Monterey.  Its  fame  has  spread  through  every 
civilized  land,  and  European  as  well  as  American 
visitors  make  up  its  throng.  The  hotel  is  located 
in  a  scattering  grove  of  200  acres,  a  little  east  from 
the  town,  and  for  lavishness  of  luxury  and  splendor 
in  constructionand  accessory  has  perhaps  no  superior. 
It  is  a  golfer's  paradise  with  fine  links,  well-grassed 
and  kept  in  tip-top  condition.  The  specific  points 
of  interest  are  Carmel  Mission,  Pacific  Grove, 
Moss  Beach,  Seal  Rocks,  and  Cypress  Point. 

The  pretty  city  of  Santa  Cruz  at  the  northern 
end  of  Monterey  Bay  is  reached  from  Del  Monte 
by  a  railway  along  the  shore.  It  is  also  reached 
direct  from  San  Francisco  by  a  line  crossing  the 
beautiful  Santa  Cruz  Mountains  and  passing 
through  the  big  trees  {Sequoia  semper  virens) . 
2o8 


It  is  San  Francisco's  most  popular  seaside  resort 
as  well  as  a  notable  summering  and  vvinterinj^ 
place  for  many  eastern  people.  There  arc  good 
hotels  and  ample  facilities  for  enjoying  the  pleas- 
ures of  the  sea. 

An  interesting  industry  of  the  place  is  the  exca- 
vation of  asphalt  from  a  small  mountain  of  the 
almost  pure  material. 

By  the  main  line  again  toward  San  Francisco 
from  Castroville  one  comes  upon  San  Jose,  the 
Garden  City,  at  the  junction  of  the  narrow  gauge 
line  to  Santa  Cruz.  The  appellation  Garden  City 
may  be  taken  literally,  for  besides  its  urban  beau- 
ties, it  lies  in  the  center  of  the  largest  compact 
orchard  area  in  the  world. 

Perhaps  there  is  not,  in  the  whole  of  Northern 
California,  a  town  more  attractively  environed.  It 
is  protected  by  mountain  walls  from  every  wander- 
ing asperity  of  land  or  sea;  a  clean,  regularly  plat- 
ted city,  reaching  ofi  through  avenues  of  pine  and 
of  eucalyptus,  and  through  orchards  and  vineyards, 
to  pretty  forest  slopes  where  roads  climb  past  rock, 
glen  and  rivulet  to  fair,  commanding  heights.  The 
immediate  neighborhood  is  the  center  of  prune 
production,  and  every  year  exports  great  quantities 
of  berries,  fruits  and  wines.  The  largest  seed- 
farms  and  the  largest  herd  of  short-horned  cattle 
in  the  world  are  here, 

Twentj'-six  miles  east  from  San  Jose  is  Mount 
Hamilton,  upon  whose  summit  the  white  wall  of 
the  Lick  Observatory  is  plainly  visible  at  that 
209 


I 


distance.  Tliisobscrvatory  has  already 
become  celebrated  for  the  discovery 
of  Jupiter's  fifth  sateUite,  and  gives 
promise  of  affording  many  another 
astronomical  sensation  in  time  to  come.  Visitors 
are  permitted  to  look  through  the  great  telescope  one 
night  in  the  week,  and  in  the  intervals  a  smaller 
glass  sufficiently  powerful  to  yield  a  good  view  of 
the  planets  in  the  broad  sunlight  of  midday  is 
devoted  to  their  entertainment.  It  is  reached  by 
stage  from  San  Jose,  the  round  trip  being  made 
daily.  Aside  from  the  attraction  of  the  famouii 
sky-glass,  supplemented  by  the  multitudinous  an:! 
elaborate  mechanisms  of  the  observatory,  the  ride 
through  the  mountains  to  Mount  Hamilton  more 
than  compensates  the  small  fatigue  of  the  journey. 
There  are  backward  glimpses  of  the  beautiful  val- 
ley, and  a  changing  panorama  of  the  Sierra,  the  road 
making  loops  and  turns  in  the  shadow  of  live-oaks 
on  the  brink  of  profound  craterlike  depressions. 

The  remainder  of  the  coast-line  trip  to  the 
Golden  Gate  has  already  received  brief  mention 
under  title  of  Suburban    San   Francisco. 

YOSEMITE  VALLEY. 

The  high  Sierras  have  been  termed  the  American 
Alps,  and  merit  the  appellation.  Here  are  snowy 
peaks  that  meet  the  sky  along  a  thousand  miles  of 
the  California  border,  and,  crowning  all.  Mount 
Whitney,  the  loftiest 
peak  in  the  United 
States. 


There  are  in  this  Sierra  region  mighty  evergreen 
forests,  groves  of  the  greatest  and  grandest  trees  in 
the  world,  the  Canyons  of  Kings  and  Kern  Rivers, 
Lassen  Buttes,  the  Minarets,  and  numerous  other 
wonders.  Not  a  mile  of  the  gigantic  mountain 
ridge  but  is  replete  with  interest.  Among  them 
all,  however,  Yosemite  is  the  best  known  and  the 
most  easily  accessible.  It  lies  due  east  of  San  Fran- 
cisco, at  an  elevation  of  4,000  feet,  and  is  reached 
from  Merced  (a  prosperous  town  on  the  Santa  Fe 
in  the  San  Joaquin  Valley) ;  thence  by  the  Yosemite 
Valley  R.  R.  eighty  miles  to  the  boundary  line  of 
Yosemite  Park,  ending  with  a  short  and  enjoyable 
stage  ride  of  twelve  miles.  The  way  is  by  Merced 
Falls  and  Pleasant  Valley,  up  the  picturesque  Canyon 
of  the  Merced  River  and  near  the  old-time  mining 
town  of  Coulterville,  to  El  Portal.  The  entire 
trip  may  be  made  easily  and  comfortably  in  about 
half  a  day. 

The  Mariposa,  Merced  and  Tuolumne  groups  of 
giant  sequoias  may  be  reached  as  a  side  trip. 
These  monster  trees  are  from  25  to  30  feet  in 
diameter  at  base  and  are  of  fabulous  age  —  quite 
the  oldest  living  things  on  earth's  crust.  And  there 
is  nothing  finer  in  the  Black  Forest  of  Ger- 
many than  the  great  sugar  pines  near  Hazel 
Green.  Yosemite  Valley  itself  does  not 
disappoint.  The  floor  is  a  parklike  tract 
about  eight  miles  long  by  half  a  mile  to  a 

frolics 
glade 


mile    wide.       The     Merced     River 
its     way     through     this     mountain 

212 


and  around  it  rise  imperious  walls 
thousands  of  feet  high. 

As  you  enter,  mighty  El  Capitan 
rears  its  monumental  form  3,200 
feet  at  your  left.  It  is  a  solid 
mass  of  granite,  taller  than  the 
valley  is  wide  at  this  point  and 
presenting  two  perpendicular 
faces.  On  the  other  hand  Bridal 
Veil  Fall  is  flinging  cascades  of 
lacelike  delicacy  from  a  height  of 
950  feet,  and  in  the  far  distance 
you  catch  a  glimpse  of  Half 
Dome,  Washington  Columns  and 
the  crests  of  the  highest  Sierra 
peaks. 

The  road  leads  on  beyond 
Cathedral  Spires,  Three  Brothers 
and  Sentinel  Rock,  the  valley 
widens  and  Yosemite  Falls  appear, 
with  the  Sentinel  Hotel  and  the 
little  village  at  the  stage  terminus, 
midway  between  the  falls  and  Glacier  Point  opposite. 

Beyond  Glacier  Point  the  valley  angles  sharply, 
and  in  the  recess  thus  formed  Vernal,  Nevada,  and 
lUiloutte  Falls,  Liberty  Cap  and  Mount  Broderick 
are  located,  but  are  not  visible  from  the  hotel. 

Looking  east,  Half  Dome  presents  an  almost  per- 
pendicular wall;  at  its  base  is  Mirror  Lake,  and, 
opposite.  North  Dome  and  Washington  Arches. 
The    peak    of    Half    Dome    is    4,737    feet    above 


213 


?3t 


'1ft!.    /, 


the   vallcv   floor,    and    8,7^7    feet   above 
the    sea. 

Yosemitc  is  accessible  and  may  be 
explored  easily.  The  best  time  to  ^o  is 
in  May  and  June,  when  there  is  no  dust 
and  the  falls  are  full  of  water.  The  main 
tourist  season  usually  begins  the  middle 
of  April  and  lasts  until  October,  though 
one  may  go  in  both  earlier  and  later  if 
desired.  In  midwinter  the  snowfall  is 
quite  heavy  and  the  outdoor  life  per- 
tains to  that  season — skating,  toboggan- 
ing and  sleigh  riding.  The  mountain 
trails  are  closed  then;  but  there's  plenty  to  do  and 
see  on  the  floor  of  the  Valley.  There  are  excellent 
hotels  and  public  camps,  or  you  may  bring  your 
own  outfit  and  pitch  tent  almost  anywhere,  witli 
reasonable  limitations.  There  are  telephone  antl 
telegraph  facilities,  a  general  store  and  a  postoffice 
with  daily  mail.  The  custodian  of  the  valley 
resides  here.  Charges  for  guides,  carriages,  sad- 
dle animals,  etc.,  are  regulated  by  a  commission,  and 
there  are  no  tolls.  The  entire  Yosemite  National 
Park  is  now  under  control  of  the  United  States 
Government.  You  may  visit  both  the  base  and  lip 
of  Nevada  Falls,  poise  in  mid-air  from  the  over- 
hanging rock  at  Glacier  Point,  gaze  4,000  feet  below 
from  a  parapet  of  Three  Brothers  or  ofif  to  the 
wilderness  of  peaks  that  lose  themselves  in  the  sky 
to  the  eastward  ;  or  you  may  pitch  pebbles  into 
the  gushing  torrent  of  Yosemite  Falls,  where  it 
makes  its  dizzy  leap  over  the  cliff. 


aiS 


The  glory  of  Yosemite  has  passed  into  hterar 
ture.  It  lends  to  word-painting  as  do  but  few 
of  Nature's  masterpieces.  Yet  all  the  pens 
that  have  essayed  to  describe  it  can  have  con- 
veyed to  you  but  little  of  its  charm  unless 
you  have  visited  the  wonderful  valley.  Only  for 
those  who  have  seen  can  the  name  conjure  up 
visions  of  a  waterfall  of  filmy  tracery  that  bends 
and  sways  in  the  breeze,  of  a  gigantic  clifif  that 
stands  at  the  portal  a  colossal  greeting  and  fare- 
well, of  another  fall  whose  waters  plunge  from  a 
far  height  half  a  mile  above  you. 

It  were  idle  to  enumerate.  No  single  feature 
wins  admiration.  It  is  the  harmonious  whole, 
blending  majesty  with  color,  form  and  action,  that 
woos  all  our  senses  with  siren  touch.  It  is  not  a 
matter  of  height  or  breadth  or  mere  bigness.  The 
Grand  Canyon  of  Arizona  outclasses  Yosemite  a 
hundred  times  over  in  greatness  and  other-world- 
ness.  But  here  Nature  is  truly  feminine  ;  she  is 
tender,  gracious  and  becomingly  gowned  ;  she  puts 
on  little  airs;  she  is  in  the  mood  for  comradeship. 
For  here  are  found  song  birds,  gorgeous  wild  flowers, 
;('"  ^  -,  rippling  streams,  grassy  parks  and 

bowers  of  shrubbery  and  ferns. 
These,  quite  as  much  as  the  bee- 
tling crag  or  stupendous  waterfall, 
are  the  secret  of  Yosemite's  hold 
on  the  imagination.  It  is  this  sense 
of  the  supremely  beautiful  incar- 
nated which  makes  Yosemite  the 
desire  of  all  travelers. 

El  C  a  pi  tan 


KINGS  RIVER  CANYON. 

Kings  River  Canyon  is  destined  soon  to  become 
as  noted  as  Yosemite  Valley  or  the  Shasta  Region. 
Few  travelers  have  visited  this  beauty  spot  of  the 
high  Sierras  because  few  know  of  it  and  it  is  not 
quite  as  easily  gotten  at  as  other  sections. 

You  must  sleep  in  a  sleeping-bag  and  use  both 
saddle  and  pack  animals  to  reach  Kings  River 
Canyon.  For  the  person  who  seeks  a  real  campmg- 
out  vacation,  good  fishing  and  beautiful  scenery, 
in  a  region  untouched  and  unspoiled  by  civilization, 
surely  this  region  is  his  paradise.  And  the  trail 
leads  through  the  Big  Trees. 

Kings  River  Canyon  is  situated  in  Fresno  County, 
about  thirty -five  miles  east  of  General  Grant 
National  Park.  In  this  Park  and  Sequoia  National 
Park,  also  between  the  two,  are  found  the  Big 
Trees  —  the  largest  groves  and  largest  trees  in 
California. 

The  best  way  to  reach  Kings  River  Canyon  is  to 
leave  the  Santa  Fe  train  at  Visalia;  thence  electric 
line  (forty-five  minutes'  ride)  to  Lemon  Cove,  and 
stage  from  Lemon  Cove  to  Camp  Sierra  in  Sequoia 
National  Park,  or  to  Camp  Juanita,  a  few  miles 
south  of  General  Grant  National  Park.  From 
these  points,  saddle  and  pack  animals  must  be  used. 
Immediately  after  leaving  either  camp,  one  is  ush- 
ered into  a  dense  forest  of  pine  and  redwood, 
through  verdant  meadows  and  across  crystal  streams. 
The  summit  of  the  trail  is  at  Lookout  Point,  on 
217 


the  very  brink  of  Kings  River 
Canyon,  altitude  8,547  feet. 

From  Lookout  Point  you 
look  down  to  the  floor  of  the 
Canyon  3,916  feet  belou\  The 
chasm  is  studded  with  stately 
trees,  and  through  it  races  Kings 
River.  Above  the  wall  of  the 
Canyon  are  seen  the  snow-clad 
peaks  and  domes  which  form 
the  backbone  of  the  Western 
divide. 

When   the  floor  is   reached, 
the    roughness    of     the     trail    "^l^::^^^ 
changes  to  park-like  surround- 
ings.        There     are    a    few     substantial     bridges, 
which   make    it    possible    to    cross    the   turbulent 
waters  of  Kings  River  in  safety. 

A  short  ride  brings  you  to  "Kanawyers,"  the 
only  camp  in  Kings  River  Canyon.  From  this  base 
side  trips  are  made  to  Paradise  Valley,  Rae  Lake,  Bull 
Frog  Lake,  Mt.  Whitney  and  hundreds  of  other 
wonderful  places.  If  one  chooses,  these  points  can 
be  visited  and  the  journey  continued  through 
Kearsarge  Pass  to  the  desert  side,  coming  out  by 
way  of  Independence  and  Moliave,  California. 


Trail  Party,  Kii 
Rizcr  Caiiyoi. 


SS9 


f/waSVi;?>*l. '■■>:-* .i/*:£sii*'^^^~'*  ^<>'A- 


Call  forma  Groove  of  B'l^  Trees 


GOOD    ROADS    IN    CALIFORNIA. 

Recojj;nizinfi  the  importance  of  good  roads,  pro- 
gressive citizens,  at  a  special  election,  recently 
voted  $18,000,000  as  an  opening  gun  in  the 
campaign  to  make  the  state  highways  of  Califor- 
nia among  the  best  in  the  world.  A  comfortable 
sum,  but  only  a  beginning,  and  in  due  time  much 
more  must  be  added.  This  liberal  State  appro- 
priation already  had  been  preceded  by  the  expendi- 
ture of  large  sums  on  behalf  of  the  different 
counties  and  cities  of  California  for  immediate 
local  improvements  along  similar  lines.  California 
now  has  many  hundred  miles  of  public  roads  that 
are  ideal  for  automobiling  and  driving.  Oil  is 
cheap,  and  a  well-oiled  and  properly  cared  for 
roadway  is  of  such  inestimable  value  to  the  ranch- 
man, as  well  as  to  the  tourist  and  pleasure  driver, 
that  a  great  deal  has  been  accomplished  in  tl  at 
direction. 

El  Camino  Real,  planned  as  a  boulevard  to 
follow  the  line  of  the  old  Missions  from  San  Diego 
northward  to  San  Francisco,  is  one  of  the  "  good 
roads"  projects  soon  to  be  realized.  And  in  all 
parts  of  the  State  the  work  of  the  campaigners 
for  better  highways  is  being  pushed  with  charac- 
teristic energy. 

THE  RETURN    VIA   OGDEN. 

The  trip  to  California  along  the  old  Santa  Fe 
Trail  is  memorable  for  its  scenic  charm.  Pleasant, 
also,  because  of   the  comfort  of  the  journey.      Hut 


many  travelers  like  to  vary  their  itinerary  and 
return  by  a  line  farther  north,  which  passes 
through  a  different  region.  In  recognition  of  this 
fact  the  Santa  Fe  recently  has  put  on  tvv^o  superbly 
equipped  fast  trains,  running  daily  betw^een  San 
Diego,  Los  Angeles  and  San  Francisco,  by  way  of 
Cajon  Pass,  Tehachapi  Pass  and  San  Joaquin 
Valley.  These  are  locally  known  as  The  Saint" 
and  "The  Angel."  Their  equipment  is  compar- 
able to  that  of  the  California  Limited.  They  &re 
convenient  for  both  business  men  and  sightseers^ 
especially  those  who  return  across  the  continent 
through  Ogden  and  Salt  Lake. 

Going  eastward  via  Ogden  the  Southern  Pacific 
takes  the  traveler  from  Oakland  Mole  past  West 
Berkeley  and  Richmond,  up  along  the  shore  of  the 
Bay  and  across  the  Carquinez  straits  at  Benecia. 

Then,  for  many  miles,  the  way  lies  through  the 
big  ranches  of  the  Sacramento  Valley  and  Sacra- 
mento, the  capital  of  the  State,  is  reached. 

Leaving  Sacramento  the  climb  up  the  western 
slope  of  the  Sierras  is  soon  begun,  past  pioneer 
settlements,  like  Dutch  Flat,  Gold  Run  and 
Emigrant  Gap.  Here  one  sees  mile  after  mile  of 
mountain  tops  scarred  by  the  old  days  of  hydraulic 
mining.  Here  one  sees,  also,  many  little  mountain 
towns  bowered  in  roses  and  golden  with  orange 
and  lemon  trees. 

Near  the  end  of  the  climb  begins  a  series  of 
monster  snowsheds,  by  which,  for  about  forty 
miles   over  the   crest    of    the    Sierras,    the  winter 


storms  of  the  Sierran  altitudes  arc  shut  out.  At 
the  emi  of  these  sheds,  and  shortly  after  leaving 
Suinmit,  one  looks  down  upon  Donner  Lake, 
some  two  miles  above  Truckee. 

At  Truckee  the  traveler  may  leave  the  main 
line  and,  after  a  short  ride  of  fifteen  miles  along 
'the  headwaters  of  Truckee  river,  come  upon  in- 
comparable Lake  Tahoe — girt  round  by  rugged 
mountains.  It  is  of  great  clarity,  so  that  at  the 
depth  of  ninety  feet  and  more  one  distinctly  sees 
the  smallest  pebbles  and  ridges  of  sand.  The 
Lake  may  be  circumnavigated  in  a  day's  steamer 
ride. 

.Reno  next  is  reached,  a  city  of  about  thirty 
thousand  people,  surrounded  by  a  rich  country, 
recently  reclaimed  from  the  sagebrush  desert  by  a 
Government  project.  Your  eyes  are  gladdened 
with  the  rich  greens  of  intensive  cultivation,  and 
other  signs  of  agricultural  prosperity. 

Thence  across  Nevada,  past  Battle  Mountain, 
Palisade  and  Elko,  until  at  Lakeside,  on  the  west- 
ward border  of  the  Great  Salt  Lake  of  our  school 
geographies,  begins  the  ride  of  about  two  hours 
over  Lucin  Cut-Ofif — a  feat  of  engineering  that 
has  built  a  solid  roadbed  across  the  lake  instead  of 
skirting  its  northern  borders,  as  did  the  older  line. 

A  short  run  after  leaving  the  lake  brings  the 
train  into  Ogden,  an  important  Utah  city  and 
railroad  division  point. 

The  Western  Pacific  Railway  offers  still  another 
series  of  views  between  San  Francisco  and  Ogden 
223 


On  the  line  of  the  Western  Pacific  Rail'u.ay 


Ttmple  Square,  Salt  Lake  City 


by  way  of  Salt  Lake.  Leaving  Oakland  this  line 
runs  southward  a  short  distance  to  Haywards,  turn- 
ing north  and  east  at  Livermorc.  It  passes  through 
Stockton,  now  sharing  largely  in  the  abundant 
prosperity  of  the  lower  San  Joaquin  Valley,  and 
comes  into  Sacramento  from  the  south. 

Leaving  Sacramento  it  continues  north  through 
the  Sacramento  valley,  a  region  of  rich  agricultural 
lands,  passing  Marysville,  one  of  the  old  California 
towns  of  the  days  of  gold. 

Just  above  Oroville  the  Western  Pacific  enters 
the  Golden  Canyon  of  Feather  River.  At  Oroville 
the  climb  has  begun  along  this  river  toward  the 
highest  point  on  the  line,  which  is  reached  at  Bcck- 
with  Pass  —  elevation  only  4,754  feet. 

Along  Feather  River  the  road  follows  the  North 
Fork,  winding  by  easy  grades  through  a  deep  canyon 
for  about  one  hundred  and  twenty-three  miles. 
These  rock-wallcd  canyons  alternate  with  peaceful 
meadows,  surrounded  by  high  mountains.  "A 
Royal  Gorge  ninety  miles  long"  is  the  way  one  of 
the  constructing  engineers  described  the  canyon  of 
Feather  River  —  an  apt  phrase. 

Once  over  the  summit,  green  mountains  give 
place  to  yellow  deserts  with  low  hills  and  long 
stretches  of  sand  and  sage.  Then  come  gleaming 
salt  beds,  with  strange  mirages  of  rivers,  lakes  and 
islands  in  the  blue  distance. 

As  the  train  approaches  Great  Salt  Lake  there 
are  miles  of  salt  beds  which  in  the  early  dawn  or 
moonlight  look  like  driven  snow.  This  inland  sea 
225 


is  a  gleaming  body  of  sea-green  water,  of  unusual 
size  and  beauty.  The  Western  Pacific  crosses  an 
arm  of  it  on  a  causeway  high  above  the  waves. 

Eastward  from  Ogden  and  Salt  Lake  City  the 
routes  to  Denver  traverse  either  southern  Wyoming 
and  northern  Colorado,  through  Cheyenne;  or 
Utah  and  central  Colorado,  by  way  of  Grand  Junc- 
tion and  Leadville.  Several  high  passes  of  the 
Rockies  are  crossed  and  many  canyon  abysses  are 
threaded,  before  the  Rampart  Range  of  the  Rockies 
is  reached. 

Colorado  has  been  called  the  Switzerland  of 
America.  Its  plains  country  starts  in  about  where 
Mount  Washington  leaves  off,  the  mountain  chains 
and  peaks  rising  nearly  two  miles  higher.  There 
is  no  finer  scenery  in  America  than  along  this  sec- 
tion of  the  transcontinental  journey.  Pueblo,  Colo- 
rado Springs  and  Denver  are  elsewhere  mentioned 
briefly.  The  Santa  Fe  has  its  own  rails  from  these 
chief  cities  of  Colorado  to  Kansas  City  and  Chi- 
cago, and  the  train  service  is  excellent. 


226 


SPANISH  NAMES,  THEIR  MEANING  AND 
PRONUNCIATION. 

Nanie.  Meaning.  Pronunciation. 

Adobe,  sun-dried  brick Ah-do'-ba)'. 

Alameda,    shady    walk    (from 

J^lamos,  poplars) Ah-lah-may^-dah. 

Alamitos,  small  cottonwoods. Ah-lah-mee'-tos. 

Alcatraz,  pelican Al-cah-trahs''.     (In  Mexico  z 

is  pronounced  like  double  s, 
in  Spain  like  ///  in  think). 

Albuquerque Ahl-boo-ker''-kay. 

Alejandro,  Alexander Ah-Iay-hahn''-dr6. 

Almaden,  mine Al-mah-den'. 

Alvarado,  Spanish  explorer  .  .  Ahl-vah-rah''-d6. 

Amador,  lover Ah-mah-dor''. 

Anita,  Anna   Ah-nee'-tah. 

Antonio,  Anthony An-to''-nee-6. 

Arroyo  Seco,  dry  ravine Ar-ro\v'y6  Say'-co  (with  the  r 

strongly  trilled) . 

Bernalillo,  little  Bernal Behr-nal-eeK-yo. 

Bernardino,  little  Bernard  . .  .  Behr-nahr-dee''-no. 

Boca,  mouth Bo''-cah. 

Bonita,  pretty Bo-nee'tah. 

Buena  Vista,  good  view Bway'-nah  Vees^-tah. 

Cajon,  large  chest  or  box  .  .  .  .Cah-hon''. 

Calaveras,  skulls Cah-lah-vay'-rahs. 

Caliente,  hot Cah-lee-en'-tay. 

Campo,  country  or  field   Cahm'-po. 

Canyon  Diablo,  Devil  Canyon. Cahn-yon'  Dee-ah'-blo. 

Capistrano,    named    from    an 

Indian  saint Cah-pees-trah''-n6. 

Carlos,   Charles Car'-16s. 

227 


Name.  Meaning.  Pronunciation. 

Carmencita,  little  Carmen  .  .  .  Car-men-see'-tah. 

Casa  Blanca,  white  house.  . .  .Cah'-sah  Blahn'-ca. 

Centinela,  sentinel Sen-tee-nay-^lah. 

Cerrillos,  little  hills Ser-reeK-yos. 

Chico,  small Chee'-ko. 

Ci^naga,  marsh See-en'ah-gah. 

Colorado,  red Ko-16-rah'-do. 

Conejo,  rabbit. K6-nay^-h6. 

Contra  Costa,  opposite  coast  .Kon''-trah  Kos'-tah. 

Coronado,  crowned  (named  for 

explorer)  Ko-ro-nah'-do. 

Corral,  enclosure Kor-rahl'. 

Corralitos,  small  enclosures  .  .Kor-rahl-ee''-t6s. 

Covina,  small  cane K6-vee''-nah. 

Coyote,  prairie  wolf Ko-y6'-tay. 

Del  Norte,  of  the  north Del  Nor^-tay. 

Del  Sur,  of  the  south Del  Soor'. 

Dos  Palmas,  two  palms Dos  PahK-mahs. 

El  Cajon,  the  large  box El  Kah-hon'. 

EI  Capitan,  the  captain El  Kah-pee-tahn^. 

El  Dorado,  the  gilded El  Do-rah'-do. 

El  Monte,  the  hill El  Mon'-tay. 

El  Morro,  the  castle El  Mor'-ro. 

EI  Paso,  the  pass    El  Pah''-s6. 

El  Torro,  the  bull El  To'-ro. 

Encinitas,  evergreen  oaks.  . .  .En-see-nee''-tas. 

Escondido,  hidden Es-con-di''-do. 

Estrella,  star Es-treK-ya. 

Farallones,  small  i;>lands,  high, 
rough  and  difficult  of  ac- 
cess   Fah''-rahl-yon^-es. 

Fresno,  ash  tree Fres''-no. 

Galisteo,  a  name Gah-lis-tay^-o. 

Garbanza,  wild  pea Gar-ban''-thali . 

Graciosa,  graceful Grah-see-o'-sah. 

Guadalupe,  a  name Gwah-dah-loo^-pay. 

228 


Name.  Meanine  Pronnncfation. 

Hermosillo,  little  beauty Er-mo-seeK-yo. 

Isleta,  little  island ees-lay^-ta. 

La  Canada,  the  valley,  glen..Lah  Cah-nah''-dah. 

Lagiina,  lagoon,  pond Lah-goC'-nah. 

La  Joya,  the  jewel Lah  Ho''-yah. 

La  Junta,  the  junction Lah  Hun^-tah, 

La  Mesa,  the  table-land Lah  May'-sah. 

La  Punta,  the  point Lah  Pun''-tah. 

Las  Animas,  souls  in  purga- 
tory   Las  Ah''-nee-mahs. 

Las  Cruces,  the  crosses Las  Crew''-ses. 

Las  Flores,  the  flowers Las  Flo''-res. 

Las  Vegas,  fertile  fields Las  Vay^-gahs. 

Lerdo,  slow Ler''-do. 

Linda  Vista,  beautiful  view  .  .Leen''-dah  Vis''-tah. 

Loma  Alta,  high  hill Lo''-mah  AhK-tah. 

Loma  Prieta,  black  hill Lo''-mah  Pree-aMah, 

Los  Alamitos,  little  cotton- 
woods  Los  Ah-lah-mee''-tos. 

Los  Alamos,  cotton  wood 
trees Los  Ah^-Iah-mos. 

Los  Gatos,  the  cats Los  Gah''-tos. 

Los  Nietos,  the  grandchildren. Los  Nee-a''-tos. 

Los  Olivos,  the  olive  trees.  . .  .Los  o-lee''-vos. 

Madera,  timber  wood     Mah-day''-rah. 

Manzana,  apple Mahn-thah'-nah. 

Merced,  mercy Mer-sed''. 

Mesa,  table,  table-land May'-sah. 

Mesa    Encantada,    enchanted 

land May^-sah  En-kan-tah^-dah. 

Mesquite,  tree  of  that  name  .  .Mes-quee''-tay. 

Montecito,  little  hill  Mon-tay-see''-to. 

Morro,  tower  or  fortification.  .Mor''-r6  (r  strongly  trilled). 

Naci6n,  nation Nah-see-oil''. 

Nuevo,  new Nway''-vo. 

Pajaro,  bird Pah''-hah''-ro. 

229 


Name.  Meaning.  Pronunciation. 

Pampa,  plain Pahm''-pah. 

Paso  de  Robles,    pass   of    the 

oaks Pah''-s6  day  Ro'-bles. 

Picacho,  peak Pee-kah'-cho. 

Pinde,  sweetened  corn  water.  .Peen^-day. 

Plumas,  feathers PIoo''-mahs. 

Presidio,  garrison Pray-see^-dee-o. 

Pueblo,  village Pway'-bio. 

Puente,  bridge Pwen''-tay. 

Puerco,  a  hog,  hence  unclean. Pwer''-co. 

Punta  Gorda,  thick  point. .  . .  Poon''-tah  Gor^-dah. 

Purgatoire,  Purgatorio,  pur- 
gatory   Poor-gah-to^-rio. 

Ranchito,  small  ranch    Rahn-chee^-to. 

Raton,  mouse Rah-ton''. 

Redondo,  round Ray-don'-do. 

Rincon,  corner Rin-kon'. 

Rio,  river Ree''-o. 

Rivera,  shore Ree-vay''-rah. 

Sacramento,  sacrament Sah-krah-men''-to. 

Salinas,  salt  pits Sah-lee'-nahs. 

San  Andres,  St.  Andrew  ....Sahn  Ahn-dres''. 

San  Buena  Ventura,  St.  Bon- 

aventure  (good  fortune)  ....  Sahn  Bway'-nah  ven-too'-rah. 

San  Ciemente,  St.  Clement  ..Sahn  Klay-men''-tay. 

San  Diego,  St.  James Sahn  Dee-ay''-go. 

San  Francisco,  St.  Francis.  .  .Sahn  Fran-sees''-ko. 

San  Jacinto,  St.  Hyacinth.  . .  .Sahn  Hah-seen''-to. 

San  Joaquin,  St.  Joachin Sahn  Hwah-keen'. 

San  Jose,  St.  Joseph Sahn  Ho-say''. 

San  Luis  Obispo,  St.  Louis  the 
bishop Sahn  Loo-ees''  0-bees''-p6. 

San  Miguel,  St.  Michael  .  .  .  .Sahn  Mee-geiK  (hard  g.) 

San  Pablo,  St.  Paul Sahn  Pah'-blu. 

San  Pedro,  St.  Peter Sahn  Pay^-dro. 

San  Rafael,  St.  Raphael Sahn  Rah-fah-elK. 

230 


Name.  Meaning.  Pronunciation. 

Santa  Barbara,   St.  Barbara.  .Sahn'-tah  Bar''-bah-rah. 
Santa  Catalina,  St.  Catherine. Sahn^-tah  Cah-tah-lee''-nah. 

Santa  Cruz,  holy  cross Sahn^-tah  Krooss''. 

Santa  Fe,  holy  faith Sahn'-tah  Fay'. 

Santa  Rosa,  St.  Rose Sahn'-tah  Ro'-sah. 

Santa  Ynez,   St.  Inez , Sahn'-tah  E-ne'ss. 

Santa  Isabel,  St.  Isabel Sahn'-tah  E-sah-be!!'. 

Sauciiito,  little  willow Sau-see-lee'-t(3. 

Savana,  vast  plain  (Sdbana)   Sah'-bah-nah. 

Sierra,  mountain  chain See-er'-rah. 

Sierra  Madre,  mountain  range 

literally  mother  range See-er'-rah  mali'-dre. 

Sierra    Nevada,   snowy    range 

(saw-tooth) See-er'-rah  Nay-vah'dah. 

Soledad,  solitude So-lay-dad'  {d  in  Spanish  has 

a  peculiarly  soft  sound  like 

th  in  the.) 
Tamalpais,  Tamal  Indians  .  .Tah-mahl-pais. 

Temecula,  Indian  name Tay-may-coo'-lah. 

Tia  Juana,  Aunt  Jane Tee'-ah  Hwah'-na. 

Valle,  valley   VahK-yay. 

Vallecito,  little  valley   Vahl-yay-see'-to. 

Vallejo,  small  valley VahKyay'-ho, 

Ventura,  luck Ven-too''-rah. 

Verde,  green Ver'-day. 

Viejo,  old . . .  Vee-ay'-ho. 

Vista,  view Vees'-tah. 


SJI 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


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JUN  28  1993 


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